


Academy

by SCD07



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Academy, Alternate Universe - Hunters, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Bloodlust, Bullying, M/M, Protective Characters, Shameless Smut, Slow Build, mentions of child abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-26 17:30:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 67,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5013643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SCD07/pseuds/SCD07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Abel wants is to get out of his parents' house, and he finally manages it by being enrolled in the academy devoted to training hunters as well as promoting the peace between hunters and vampires.</p><p>What Abel fails to anticipate is how the rest of the residents of the academy react to a new student among them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Careful Consideration

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to deliver this to you all closer to Halloween, but we're officially over halfway through the month, so screw that, and enjoy!

Abel sighed heavily, pressing his forehead to the tiled wall of his shower. Water cascaded over his shoulder blades, slithering down his slim frame, his narrow hips rocking slightly. It was hard to translate the numb tingle of drops hitting his back as a wide, warm expanse of shoulders in his imagination, but the droplet slipping from his silver blond hair and licking down his neck was much more akin to a tongue lapping the vein in the column of his throat.

His free hand raked his hair off his forehead, tugging slightly as he pressed himself further into the wall, trying his best to imagine a body pressing against him, someone else’s hand in his hair.

Abel had never once considered that someone taking control of his body would arouse him. In fact, he knew it wouldn’t, in reality. That required trust he did not have. He was raised to be mistrustful; the people in his own house were strangers to him. It was the concept of that trust that made the veins in his cock throb in his hand; the notion that someone could love him enough to push him to the very edge but still hold him above the precipice—

_KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!_

Abel gasped, his voice breaking through before he reminded himself that he was in a private setting: the shower wall, his bathroom and bedroom walls, and two doors shrouded him from his father’s low, annoyed voice.

“Abel! How long do you intend to stay in there? The chauffer is ready to leave!”

He sighed, feeling his member growing limp in his hand. Abel turned the water off and called hollowly. “I’m finished. I’ll be out in a couple minutes.”

He could hear the heavy treads of his father’s feet fading down the corridor. Abel quickly dried and pulled on his loose-fitting trousers which he had never seemed to grow into, and a long sleeve sweater over it. He slipped into worn, canvas shoes for the drive before shrugging into his coat.

His mother hugged him and kissed his cheek by the front door. His father shook his hand before a one-armed hug that was so loose Abel could not feel his father’s body heat. The chauffer’s handshake was warmer as he held the door of the car open for him. Abel scooted over the leather interior as he heard the trunk slam shut behind him. On the floor was his iguana’s tank, but the lizard itself had managed to climb up and was resting tranquilly on the seat like some majestic, green king.

Abel leaned over until he was lying horizontally across the seat. Eventually the iguana crawled over the seat adjacent to his and over his legs to nestle contently against his sternum. The scaly body was still hot from the lamp in the tank, the heat melting through Abel’s sweater to warm his torso. His body curled slightly into the heat with his eyes closing as the car drove away from his home. He wouldn’t miss it.

“Mr. Ethaniel? Mr. Ethaniel, we’ve arrived.”

Abel opened his eyes unwillingly. The rocking and vibrations of the car had put him straight to sleep. Even his iguana refused to open his wrinkly eyes.

Abel removed the creature from his stomach and set him in his glass tank before handing it out to the chauffer. The trunk was already popped open, but Abel’s eyes lifted to absorb the white façade of the building they had parked in front of. In the darkness it glowed almost blue or grey. It was an authentic antiquity structure, the columns and triangular pediment chipped and corroded over the centuries but still in pristine condition, considering. The car was parked in the horseshoe drive, in the center of which a large copper compass rose was corroded turquoise from rain and the fountain pool beneath it.

The chauffer told Abel to handle the tank while he managed the luggage, so he followed the wheeled bags up the wide, marble stairs and beneath the tall columns. The interior of the building was the exact opposite of the outside: modern, glass, and metal, but with none of the spacious grandeur lost. A glass dome ribbed with steel frames shed moon and starlight over the giant entryway and foyer. Another fountain rippled behind the metal, crescent shaped desk in the center of the room. Abel could see glimpses of brightly colored fish swimming around beneath the lily pads before his attention was torn to the two figures sitting behind the desk.

One was a human female. The other, was most certainly not.

The cold, amber eyes of the latter rested on him before a smile bloomed on her face. “Welcome, Mr. Ethaniel. We hope your travel was not too extensive?”

The drive had taken the whole afternoon and night, but Abel had slept through it. He nodded, his dark eyes focused on the slight, sharp points of her canine teeth. His arms were starting to burn from holding his aquarium. “It was pleasant. Is my room ready?”

“Certainly is,” the human chimed. Her copper hair shimmered auburn in the dim lighting. Only the moon and stars above illuminated the room, albeit an indigo strip under the counter of the desk cast a dark blue glow over the receptionists’ papers.

The chauffer took the key and led the way up the grand staircase split on either side of the lily pool. Unlocking the Victorian, brass lock, Abel peered around the medium sized room. The ceiling was angled so a skylight cast bluish-silver light from the stars over his full sized bed tucked into the far corner, flanked by an ebony desk and dresser. Abel set the tank on the latter, his arms burning tensely from carrying it.

“A set of uniforms has already been provided for you,” the chauffer informed, opening one of the drawers to reveal three sets of whitish-grey trousers, shirts, and jackets with the compass rose logo. “During school and work hours you are expected to perform in uniform, although you are welcome to wear your casual raiment any other time. Your uncle has arranged for you to have breakfast in an hour in his office—”

A colossal crash was heard and felt through the walls and floor. Abel stared wide-eyed around him, whereas the chauffer merely sighed. “Although the hunters appear to be up and about…you noticed the staircase is forked?”

Abel nodded and the man continued, “Your room rests in the faculty corridor, however if you followed the staircases, you would find yourself on either the hunter side, or the vampire side. I daresay if you want peaceful company, you will find it better with the parasites than the hunters. They may be human but only just.”

As if to confirm his warning, another resounding _THUD_ shook the ceiling. The chauffer sighed again heavily, shaking his head. “Best of luck, Mr. Ethaniel. You will find your uncle at the end of the hall.”

“Thank you,” Abel said as he shut the door on his way out. The sky was fading to shades of grey and blue as he unpacked his belongings in the dresser and desk drawers. Some shelves were stationed on the wall beside his bed, which he piled with his books on astrology, mythology, physics, and art.

Checking the time, he started wandering along the spacious corridor. Some tall windows let in the dawn light over the parquet floor and Oriental rug. Reaching a rose wood door with a nailed plaque reading _Keeler Ethaniel,_ he knocked.

He blinked against the rush of air as the door whooshed open to reveal his tall, lanky uncle. “Abel!” he sang, stepping forward to pull him into a hug. Abel smelled the familiar scent of soap and roses in his uncle’s long, braided blond hair. His eyes closed against the warmth and scent until the man reared back to smile face to face. Keeler’s bright blue eyes sometimes appeared as white as his hair and uniform, but in the dimness they were warm and topaz. “You look starved, dear nephew. Come in, come in. I plan to get ten pounds on you before the week’s up, starting with breakfast everyday. How are you? How’s the iguana? Did you bring Tantos with you? I can’t imagine you didn’t.”

Abel let himself be ushered to a carved, pale oak chair at the table loaded with platters of blood oranges, poached eggs, toast, roasted bell peppers, and two carafes with water and juice. He peeked sideways at the cracked door leading to Keeler’s adjoining bedroom, but his office was certainly large enough to hold a breakfast party.

Keeler plopped himself in the chair adjacent to Abel scooping jam and clotted cream on a slice of toast. He was hardly older than Abel despite technically being his uncle; Abel often referred to him as his cousin to avoid explaining their close ages. “Yeah, Tantos is here. My dad might have sent him to the lake behind the house if I’d left him.”

Keeler laughed merrily. “Oh, he’s not so cruel, but I’m glad you brought him. Bring him along for breakfast tomorrow. I bought moss and things to treat him with.”

The door to the bedroom opened suddenly and Keeler hopped up from his chair. Abel watched discretely as he molded himself to a dark man’s strong frame, kissing his cheek good morning. “Encke, this is Abel, my nephew and new student as well as assistant in the robotics department.”

“Don’t get up,” the deep voice said as Abel tried to rise. He took the chocolate brown hand in his own, feeling the residual heat of Keeler on his skin but recognized the colder flesh of the vampire beneath. “Keeler’s told me a lot about you. Make no mistake, he’s spoken of nothing but you all weekend. Safe travels?”

He took the chair on Abel’s other side, politely ignoring the food since it was not a staple of a vampire’s diet. He listened as Abel answered, “I slept through the entire drive. Um, what exactly are the hunters doing to create so much noise?”

Encke groaned, and the sound shuddered right through Abel. He cast his eyes downward, ignoring the heat blushing in his cheeks. “We got a new shipment of ‘em a couple days ago. They’re getting more rambunctious, especially this group and their ass head of a leader.”

“He’s cute, though,” Keeler mused, much for the amusement of Encke’s glare.

“He doesn’t know discipline,” he countered. “He was locked in solitary confinement his first night here and somehow he managed to hang upside-down from the ceiling, doing sit ups when they came for him. Turns out he crawled through the ceiling and was playing poker with a neighbor to pass the time.”

“Inventive,” Keeler approved. “I’ve heard he is the top of his group, and he’s already proving to be amongst the top ranking hunters, as well.”

“He’s certainly got the kill count for it,” Encke admitted. “But his temper is boundless and his language is always obscene. There’s more to being a hunter than executing a killing spree. If he can’t tolerate his own human kind, much less get along with docile vampires, he’ll be put down.”

“Put down?” Abel repeated.

Keeler answered, “Even though vampires are the ones with the teeth, hunters sometimes act no better than dogs: hunting, eating, and fucking. It’s an analogy that just…stuck. We can’t maintain the piece between our species if a rogue hunter can’t behave himself.”

Abel almost asked, _So you kill them?_ but he remembered his upbringing, his history lessons and how his ideal of the world was far less cruel than the reality in which he lived.

“Abel, _eat,”_ Keeler insisted. “I can see the veins beneath your eyes. What have your parents been doing that would make them forget to feed you?”

He glanced down at the toast he had prepared but not touched since. He absentmindedly reached for whatever was closest—roasted peppers—and began eating. It wasn’t that his parents starved him or that he refused to eat; Abel had always been a thin boy, and an equally thin young man. His stomach only tolerated small meals and even the juicy, sweetly savory peppers had a bland aftertaste on his tongue. He had always spent his time playing with his iguana, Tantos, spent time outside, reading…eating simply fell to second place on his priority list.

After a couple strips of pepper, an egg, and a glass of juice, Abel followed Keeler out of his office to start their day. Keeler led him through the atrium: a massive room with a staircase snaking around the room to the second and third tiers of the building. Some people peered down at them as they passed, but they were soon striding down a corridor with a high, glass ceiling. The hallway ended in a large, circular room laden with tables, computers, and a transparent ceiling through which a massive telescope poked out of the roof.

“You have midday classes, right?” Keeler asked, pulling out the chair of a wide, unoccupied workstation with a thin touch screen monitor set into the surface of the table. “Your shifts may change between the morning and evening, but if you have to get to a class, just leave. Some of the professors would rather have salt in their coffee than deal with tardy students. Any who, make yourself comfortable. Your first assignment should be waiting in your inbox.”

Abel navigated across the screen, and set to work. He engrossed himself so quickly and deeply in his work that it took him quite a while to realize someone was trying to get his attention. Abel peeked up at his neighbor, a young man about his age with a roundish face and a thick head of sandy blond hair. He smiled sheepishly, but kindly. “Hi, I’m Ethos. Sorry I’m disturbing you, I just wanted to introduce myself. Are you Abel?”

“It’s no trouble. I’m sorry for being oblivious. Yes, I’m Abel,” he returned, shaking hands.

Ethos’ shyness evaporated from his smile. “I think we have a class together in a couple hours, if you want to walk over together?”

“Sure,” Abel nodded graciously. “You’re not a…?”

Ethos’ eyes widened. “A hunter? No! No, I could never…my roommate, Praxis, is, though. He’s one of the nice ones, I promise,” he laughed.

Abel returned the sentiment. “I’ve heard the new hunters have a bit of a reputation.”

“They’re not all bad,” Ethos shrugged, “but some of them are definitely creating a name for themselves.”

“You talking about the pigs we have to clean up for?” came a sneering voice behind them.

Abel glanced at Ethos sighing through his teeth before eyeing the blond with hair cropped above his shoulders. His narrow eyes locked onto Abel, blatantly wandering over his body. “So you’re Abel. Not as much as I was expecting.”

“No one asked you, Phobos,” Ethos muttered weakly.

“Speak up, Ethos. If I can’t hear you, I assume you’re not worth hearing,” Phobos retorted before turning back to Abel. “Commander Cook’s all excited about you.”

Abel frowned, puzzled. “The dean?”

Phobos nodded with a sneer. “Academy president and Hunter Society’s commander, the very same. This place has just been…abuzz for your arrival. Been attacked by any vamps, yet?”

Abel sighed, annoyed and rapidly dwindling on patience. “No, they’re far more courteous than the human population, apparently.”

Phobos laughed, unfazed. “The hunters will take a chunk out of you yet, then.”

“Are you a hunter?” Abel wondered, and he noticed how Phobos stood a little straighter.

“Yes, I am.”

“Hmm,” Abel hummed, this time being the one to bluntly size the man up. “A poor preview. I hope the others are not as lackluster. Supposedly you’re in charge of keeping us safe.”

The mirth and arrogance melted from Phobos’ face instantly. “You’re a cocky little shit for someone who’s been here for an hour.”

“And usually I have a plethora of patience, yet you seem to have taken every ounce of it.”

Phobos chuckled darkly, leaning down so his next words were more private. “What are you going to do about it, then? You’re not a hunter, and I can tell you’re—what? Fifteen or twenty pounds underweight? There isn’t much you could do to shut me up—”

“Phobos! Back to your seat! We’ve got a quota to reach!” Keeler called from across the room.

For a second, Phobos looked like he’d been smacked in the mouth, which immediately turned into a scowl. “The administration might like you sucking their cocks, Abel, but you’re only a commodity as long as you impress them.”

“Falling from grace must have hurt for you to be so bitter,” Abel returned innocently. “You still haven’t gotten up off your knees.” He half expected Phobos to hit him, but after a tense moment he slunk back to his desk.

The next hour and a half passed quickly enough, and then Ethos grabbing his satchel to walk with Abel to their class. “Why are you taking Medieval and Renaissance Art?” he asked conversationally.

Abel shrugged. “I need a break from all the Astrophysics and Universal Mechanics. I like the mythology behind the art.”

“That’s cool…erm, why don’t you have a bag?”

Abel glanced at his notebook and the pen tucked between the pages. “Should I have one?”

Ethos looked flustered. “I just, well, you’re late arriving for the semester. I figured the professor would have already sent you loads of handouts to bring to class and required materials to catch you up.”

Abel tried to smile bashfully. “I’ve been reading the required texts and taking the exams online. Technically, I’ve been in your class the whole time, just not physically.”

Ethos smiled back, appeased. Abel had not lied entirely; he _had_ been reading the texts and submitting completed exams and essays digitally, but the fib was in the physicality. He had not enrolled until much more recently, and the assignments were sent to him in one gush, and had completed them all in one day and night. After checking and finding no plagiarism, along with all of the other courses’ assignments he’d submitted, the board of academy trustees couldn’t bring Abel to the academy fast enough.

They were meandering along a paneled corridor when a smooth voice sang, “YOU SEE SOMETHING YOU LIKE?”

Ethos and Abel peered at one another as a series of rough whistles sounded from two classrooms across the hall to one another. They warily leaned forward, peeking into the opposite classrooms to find some men and women—presumably hunters, based on the noise—cooing and taunting each other across the distance. The loudest one was on their right, a tall man built of lean muscle. He was wiggling his fingers, beckoning someone from the other side to come over with a smirk on his face that revealed pristine, white teeth.

Abel moaned nervously. “That’s our class, isn’t it?”

“Afraid so,” Ethos muttered, equally anxious. “I think they’re trying to tame the hunters with history. Obviously, it’s not working.”

“It can’t be helped,” Abel resolved, slipping through the doorway. Not seconds later, he felt his nose graze over a coal grey, almost black shirt.

“Woah, where are you going, sweet heart?”

Abel saw in his peripheral vision a speckling of black and white uniforms: hunters and civilians. There were vampires as well, who were allowed to where either color, and typically assorted white jackets with black trousers or vice versa.

His gaze lifted as he reared backward, absorbing the elegant V of an amber throat, branching off to form the collarbones beneath the column of the throat. The hunter’s hair was what Abel’s gaze locked on—it was unusual to say the least. Locks of hair framed his face down to his chin, but the rest stood up in wind swept, jagged points. Some of it fell over his forehead, over his dark eyes; the neon blue streaks there contrasted with his black tresses, charcoal grey eyes, and warm, amber skin.

“To my seat,” Abel heard himself say.

“Since when are you in this class?” the hunter scoffed arrogantly. “We’ve been here for a shitty two and a half months and I’ve never seen you before.”

“Cut the crap, Cain,” another hunter approached. Abel saw him put an arm around Ethos, ushering him to his seat. “You’re rarely here, yourself. You wouldn’t be here today unless administration hadn’t dragged you here.”

The man named Cain sneered. “No one drags me anywhere, Praxis, least of all your bedroom. Stop asking.”

The way Praxis grimaced, Abel knew it was an empty taunt. He tried to slip past the pair of hunters, but a long arm cut in front of his path. “Hold on. You haven’t given me your name or anything. Rudeness cannot be tolerated, or so I’m told.”

Abel glared up at him, liking this hunter less and less. “You don’t need it.”

Praxis held out his arm and nodded in the direction Ethos had gone. “Come on, there’s a seat over here.”

Cain knocked Praxis’s arm away. “Piss off, Praxis. The new kid and I are chatting.” He turned back to Abel. “So? What’s your name?”

“Abel,” he groaned.

“Abel…”

He bit the inside of lip hard enough to draw blood. “Abel Ethaniel.”

A sleek, black brow arched over his deadpan eyes. “Your name is Abel Ethaniel? Which of your parents is the lousy poet?”

Behind him, however, whispers were buzzing between the rows of students. Praxis’s eyes widened slightly. “Cain, you’re being a dumb ass, per usual. Just sit down.”

“Excuse _you,_ Prixy Dick, but I’m having a conversation with Abel Ethaniel, over here,” Cain shot back. Abel felt himself in the beam of his gaze as he wondered, “Why is your hair _white?”_

Abel blinked. He’d never been asked such a question before. It was true, his hair was a bright shade of blond, but it was the same tone as his parents’, the same shade as Keeler’s--there were other blonds in this freaking classroom. Why did Cain have to single him out?

Suddenly, Abel felt himself stepping backward as Cain stalked forward. “And what’s this?” he muttered, flicking the forelock of Abel’s hair. “Did you color your hair with a highlighter? If you’d chosen blue, we could have matched—”

_Schmak!_

Abel’s hand moved before he’d meant for it to, and a startling ache tingled its way from his flesh to his bones. For a moment, Cain appeared equally stunned, and Abel took the opportunity to swing around Praxis for the open seat across and to the back of the room, behind Ethos.

As his rear hit the seat, the professor strolled into the room. Cain and Praxis peered at one another for a strenuous second before Cain smirked innocently. Abel’s gaze and heart plummeted as he watched Cain in his peripheral vision come to his side of the room. He caught a wave of his hand as Cain gestured for the person in the row next to him to get out of her seat. She scampered across the room, and Abel found himself sitting next to the hunter.

“Mr. Ethaniel, we’re so pleased you’ve arrived,” the professor greeted, oblivious to Cain’s behavior.

“Thank you, sir,” he answered mutely.

“My, my, princess of the academy, are we?” Cain murmured.

Abel refused to answer Cain’s taunt. Praxis, who sat in front of Cain answered for him, “Considering he finished the entrance exam and caught up on all his assignments in under a week, _yeah,_ he outranks you, Cain.”

Some whispers reverberated around him, saying things like, _A week? I finished the exam alone in a week! Seriously, though, why’s his hair white? He must be smart. He’s only brought a notebook! Or full of himself. But he slapped Cain! Exactly, he slapped Cain. How smart can he be?_

Abel scratched his ear and rested his chin on his palm, trying to tune them out. For a while, he focused on the professor’s lecture, but he wound up opening his notebook and working on a sketch he’d begun the other day of Eros and Psyche embracing. Occasionally, he scribbled in the equations and functions of the slope of a shoulder, the arch of a spine, and the angle of a forearm.

“Her tits should be bigger.”

Abel startled, lifting his head to find Cain’s chin planted on the heels of his fists, his body totally facing his direction despite the lecture being in the other direction. “Do you mind?” he scolded quietly.

“No, that’s why I said her tits need to be bigger. Come on, if you’re going to draw porn, you might as well do it right,” Cain returned shamelessly.

“It’s an Antonio Canova,” Abel snapped, “a sculpture. Otherwise known as art, the whole purpose for this class.”

“Really? If I’d known naked people were the basis of this class, I would have attended more often. So where’s your room?”

Abel cast a glare at him. “Where none of your business and fuck off intersect.”

Cain’s eyes widened slightly. “You’re skinny, but you’re snappy. I like that.”

“I don’t care what you like. Leave me alone,” Abel responded, eyes on his paper.

“Come on, princess. I can show you a good time. Tell me where your room is. I’ll find out eventually.”

“Not happening.”

“Is your pubic hair as white as the rest of it?” Cain pondered.

Abel rubbed his eyes. “Do you harass everyone this way?”

Cain seemed to really consider the question before he answered, “For the most part. That doesn’t mean you can’t be special to me.”

“I’d really rather not.”

“You haven’t even tried it. I can be very gentle to people who are special to me.”

Abel stared at him dubiously. “If this conversation is a prelude, I don’t want any part of what you can offer.”

“This is me being nice, Abel,” Cain warned. “Especially after you slapped me, you might want to return the kindness.”

“You have a distorted perception of kindness if you think bullying me to have sex with you is polite.”

He noticed Ethos and Praxis exchange a glance. A quick scan of the rest of the classroom revealed how keenly the students were paying more attention to their discussion than of the professor.

Thankfully, class ended a moment later. Abel’s notebook snapped closed, and he was up and out the door. It was too much to hope that he would not be followed as an arm crooked around his neck, pulling him roughly against Cain’s side.

“I realize I haven’t enlightened you to how sweet a deal this is,” he began conversationally, not like he was holding Abel in a headlock as they maneuvered through the corridor. He could feel eyes on them and he tried to duck his head out of Cain’s grasp. When he finally managed it, blood rushed to his head, pounding in his ears so strongly that he swayed on his feet.

Cain caught him with a strong arm around his waist, ushering him through the crowd of people. Abel cringed and stiffened his elbows against Cain’s torso as he felt the hunter’s face in his hair, breathing deeply. “This place will eat you alive, sweet heart,” his voice thrummed over his scalp, through the contact with his chest. “If you want to last a week, you’ll need my help.”

“I’m supposed to take what you’re doing as considerate?” Abel growled, trying to ignore just how _good_ Cain smelled. An asshole shouldn’t smell as nice as he did.

Well, until he hauled Abel out a side door and fished a lighter and pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. The smoke made Abel nauseated. “Woah, steady,” Cain caught his arm again when he swayed with each heave of a cough. “You’re hopeless. It’s damn fortunate you found me.”

“Leave me alone,” Abel responded, aiming for the door back inside. Of course, Cain blocked him.

“Listen to me, you arrogant prat. I can’t make this any clearer than I already am: this place is a cesspool. The hoity-toity administration might not bother to look down their noses to see what’s really going on, but all of us down here have our wits about us. If you keep going on like the faculty will look out for you, then you’re a fucking moron.”

Abel grimaced at his words, feeling more than insulted. His intelligence was one of the few things Abel was proud of. Cain continued, “You either need to make a name for yourself as someone who cannot be fucked with, or you need it to be clearly known that you’re someone’s bitch. It may be a monumental task, but with careful consideration, I volunteer for the job,” he finished with a dramatic flourish of his cigarette.

His head tilted to the side as the cigarette wobbled in his mouth, his eyes roaming over Abel. “Long legs and a nice ass considering you’re a stone underweight. I’ll manage.”

Abel grabbed the cigarette from his lips and crushed it beneath his foot. “If one more person mentions my weight, I’ll stab my pen in their eye, you included. I’m not going to be your bitch, your plaything, or whatever the hell you want me to be. I can take care of myself.”

Cain laughed in his face, the last dregs of smoke billowing from his lungs. “You’ve got fight in you. Damn, I like that, but I’ve got the highest kill streak around. You couldn’t ask for a better guardian, and I’ll be a stallion in your sheets.”

Abel’s eyes were deadpan. “Considering it takes less than a minute for horses to do their business, you’re not impressing anyone.”

Cain’s smirk faltered and Abel could feel the seconds passing. He had a class in two minutes, and he refused to be late because of this arbitrary hunter. “And you might bite your thumb at the administrators of this place, but the only thing under careful consideration is whether or not to _put you down.”_

The smirk was definitely gone, now. “Only the vamps use that kind of language,” he growled. “You’d rather throw your lot in with the fucking parasites?”

Abel swallowed dryly, squinting as the sun reemerged from behind the heavy clouds. “If it’s you or them, it must be the latter.”

Cain laughed darkly. “I’m in room eighty-seven on the east wing. Come find me when you’re tired of being snacked on. That is, if some other hunter doesn’t rape you first.”

Abel waited a moment for Cain to get a head start down the hallway, but also to make sure he wasn’t going to vomit his breakfast. When his stomach proved docile, he made his way to class.


	2. Something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got a few chapters already written so I'm uploading them but don't get too excited about these quick updates haha

Abel went without dinner that evening. He lay on his bed with Tantos stretched across his stomach as he checked his email for the status of the new tank coming; the current one was just a travel vessel, but far too small for the iguana to live in permanently. The next one should be large enough to stand end to end of the wall-length dresser and nearly to the ceiling.

“Two more days,” he promised. “Like a lark in the night, it will come when everyone is asleep. I can’t imagine how people would gossip after seeing a five hundred gallon tank hauled up the stairs.”

As if in answer, the hubbub of nocturnal students passing through the corridors beyond was heard. The vampires could only attend so many classes throughout the day because of the abundance of glass and sunlight, but the academy operated just as busily when the sun and moon traded places in the sky.

Walking over to the tank and the tall tree limb sticking out of it, Abel set Tantos in the branches glowing with the indigo of the hot UV lamp. It was the only solace for the creature until the larger accommodations arrived, but Abel also wasn’t risking the iguana urinating in his sheets while he slept.

The following morning, the pangs in his stomach awoke him before his alarm, and Encke and Keeler greeted him over breakfast again. Abel was quickly growing to like Encke. He took his job seriously and his quietude was made up for by Keeler’s chattiness, but the man had a surprisingly light sense of humor.

It was also obvious that he was head over heels in love with Keeler. Abel caught a wider glance of their room when Encke emerged for breakfast, and the sheets were gloriously rumpled while a box of condoms as well as a bottle of lubricant stood proudly on the nightstand. For a brief moment, Abel felt as if he had intruded on a sacred, intimate space just by looking, but he reminded himself that he was a guest here, the two men were in a devout relationship, and really, it would be ludicrous to think they weren’t having sex.

And every time his uncle got onto Abel for not eating, Encke seemed to nag Keeler double: _No, sit down, I’ll get it. I told you I’d do the dishes. What are you doing? That laundry basket’s too heavy! You haven’t finished your eggs. You can do it after work, don’t worry about it now._ Abel was inclined to suspect Encke was the one who braided Keeler’s hair as well.

The day progressed with no interruptions other than scowls and sneers from Phobos. Abel was immensely glad to not discover Cain in any of his other classes, although he was pleasantly surprised to find Ethos and Praxis in half of them. They were the ones who made note of all the eyes following Abel through the atrium as they went to the dining hall for dinner.

“Isn’t it, uh, eerie how the vampires stare at you?” Ethos whispered.

Abel could feel their gazes turning even before he entered the atrium, even before he turned the corners of the halls. “Don’t worry about it,” he waved the matter away.

“Abel, you should take this more seriously,” Praxis seconded. “I’ve never seen them act this way. They’re like cats trained on a laser dot.”

“It’s because I’m new and I have a heart beating inside my chest,” Abel reminded. “Stop giving concern where it’s unnecessary.”

They rounded the corner into the dining hall and stopped short as Cain and a smaller man were on their way out. Cain’s upper lip curled and he made a scoffing sound at the sight of Abel, but the Abel's eyes drifted to the smaller man and the ice blue eyes resting in his face. He had a shock of black hair diagonally hanging over his forehead, but his skin was the same copper tone as Cain’s despite his being a vampire. He and Abel stared at one another before the man peeked up at Cain and discretely placed a finger over his lips.

Abel refrained from laughing outright. Cain and his big talk about parasites, and here he was friends with one, and he had no idea.

“Come on, Deimos,” Cain ushered. “Let’s leave the hungry beasts to their buffet.”

Abel watched them go and marveled at the identical charcoal uniform. It was not unheard of for a vampire to be a hunter as well, but they were usually not well received; this would make sense as to why Deimos was hiding his nature from Cain.

But as Abel strode passed them and into the room, he realized that Cain had not been referring to the three of them getting food—half of the room was staring at them, namely, the vampires were staring at Abel.

Suddenly, inexplicably, he felt angry. _Stop looking at me,_ he wanted to scream. He came here to escape prying eyes, not to have an entire campus watch him. Obstinately, he marched forward while heads dropped but eyes remained, observing him under their brows—

“Abel! Over here,” Ethos called. “That’s the blood side.”

His eyes snapped up from his audience and he realized where he was going: on one side of the room were food stations featuring alternate cuisines, and on the other was where the various refrigerators where vampires received their bags of donated blood.

He quickly rounded on his heal, turning his face away indignantly. He barely tasted his miso soup, much less the lo mein which sat heavily in his stomach.

“Abel? Are you feeling all right?” Praxis asked, his laughter cutting short as he noticed Abel’s complexion.

“Hm? Yeah, I just need to lie down. I should be turning in, anyways,” he responded, slowly rising and grasping his tray.

“Are you sure?” Ethos inquired. “The bags under your eyes are really prominent, especially the veins.”

Abel gave a bashful smile. “I always have bags under my eyes. I’m just one of those people. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Setting his tray in the dish pit, Abel found himself in the atrium without really remembering walking there. He swallowed thickly as he trudged up the stairs, taking the shortcut to the faculty’s dormitory. His brass key clattered into the dorm’s lock, and then he was making his way up a skinny staircase, down the corridor, and meeting the similar brass lock of his own door.

The key settled in the lock while he took a moment to open the collar of his jacket. Every breath on the stairs had winded him, and his lungs were aching for air while his throat and temples throbbed in time with his heartbeat. His forehead pressed against the door as he opened his uniform jacket and tried to fill his lungs but he felt as if the blood in his head was trickling into his belly, ignoring the rest of his body instead of transferring the oxygen where it needed to go.

He saw his hand turn the key without feeling it. Same with the knob. Curious, how the senses dull one at a time. His hearing felt far away, in the rear of his mind, and now the world appeared to be tipping—

Abel stood in the doorway, pale as a ghost, dry lipped, and wide-eyed. “You look like you’ve seen a vampire, or a couple hundred,” Cain teased from the bed. “Calm down, princess. It’s just me.”

There was a brief second of unnatural calm, the moment where Abel had the choice of either swallowing it down or letting his body take control—he chose the latter. His stomach clenched as body lurched forward, and he heaved over the rubbish bin beside the desk, vomiting everything he’d consumed.

Tears slipped from his eyes, falling into the sick as Cain muttered, “I would consider this quite rude if I wasn’t a fan of lo mein day, either.”

Abel spit the dregs of a dry heave and reached for a tissue to wipe his mouth. Rising, he mumbled, “Get out.”

He swayed backward, startled slightly by the touch of Cain’s hands on his nape, holding him in place as he felt Abel’s temperature on his neck and forehead. “Hmm…I never noticed this,” he commented, his thumb swiping across this bottom lip, where a faded line marred the plump flesh. “When did you split your lip? It couldn’t have been in a fight. You’re too scrawny.”

“Fuck off,” Abel breathed, shoving the hands off of him. “Why are you here?”

“Well,” Cain sassed, “despite your fucking lizard biting me, I’ve come to accept your apology.”

“Good. The biting, not the apology—what apology?” Abel slumped on his bed.

“Were you blind back there? That was some weird shit, all of those vamps turning to look at you. It goes without saying that you just might want to consider avoiding crowded places. Gallant, as I am, my offer is still on the table and my ears are open. Whenever you’re ready.”

“I’m not apologizing, Cain,” Abel retorted. “Your behavior was the problem, not mine. You may show yourself out, though.”

“You’ve experienced a shock, I understand. I’ll give you a moment to configure how you’ll say it,” he proffered, as if Abel had never spoken. “Until then, why the hell do you live with the faculty? When I learned where your room was, I barely believed it until I saw it. You must be a rich boy indeed to get your own room, complete with your annoying green pet.”

“His name’s Tantos.”

Cain turned to peer at him. “Tantos?”

Abel hugged his pillow to his chest as he informed, “Short for Tantalus. If you attended class, you might understand the reference.”

The hunter seemed to seriously ponder whether or not going to class was worth it before changing the subject. “Considering the stench wafting from this side of the room, do you have an eating disorder or something?”

“Something,” Abel confirmed after a deep inhale. “Look, I would really like to get some sleep. Could you please leave?”

“My offer has a deadline, you know,” Cain declared, his hand on the doorknob. “Other hunters would ignore your rancid breath and plough you into the mattress, whether your pelvis snapped or not. Don’t waste your time disdaining me.”

“Get out before I dump the bin over your head,” Abel warned, but Cain was gone before he finished.

The next time Abel awoke just as he was: slumped sideways across his bed in his uniform, his pillow hugged to his chest with an acidic, sour taste in his mouth. He sat up slowly to keep the blood from rushing to his head before he dragged his feet to the shower. Instead of an office, he had his own bathroom adjoining his room, which allowed him to sit in the tub while water tumbled over his head and body. He brushed his teeth mechanically, the same strokes over and over and over and over as he’d been taught to do once upon a time.

He was carding his fingers through his moist hair when he went to his uncle's room. Encke opened the door to let him in for breakfast before Abel had even knocked. “You ought to sit down,” he warned. “You look dead on your feet.”

“I feel about the same,” Abel admitted, and then he noticed Keeler wasn’t in his office.

Abel voiced this observation aloud, and Encke responded, “I wanted a word with you alone before Keeler cooked anything. He’s in the shower right now. Have a seat, Abel.”

He did, in his customary place at the table. Encke sat adjacent to him, beginning, “You’ve caused quite a stir. It’s only a matter of time before folks figure out where you sleep. Then they’ll be crowding around the dormitory door, trying to catch a peek, or even trying to get in.”

Abel wondered if he should tell him that someone had already succeeded in getting not only inside the dorm, but somehow inside his room as well.

Encke drew his attention back to him by saying, “Abel…I know.”

He sat there, statuesque. “You…know?” he repeated, not out of confusion, but fear. There were a number of things Encke could _know_ about him. Encke lived with his uncle, after all. It would even be silly to think that he didn’t know something—

Abel’s eyes widened on the object the man suddenly, yet slowly, placed on the table. His lips parted, his gaze unable to detach from it. Abel’s lips felt inexplicably dry, his lungs empty as his insides began to awaken, dormant for so long but were now squirming.

“It’s all right,” Encke soothed.

But Abel shook his head, his eyes burning with tears, with restraint. “I can’t.”

“I’ll admit I don’t understand your upbringing,” Encke acquiesced, “but I also admit that I don’t want to. You need this, Abel. I can see it in your eyes.”

He realized he was holding his breath, afraid to even breathe. Abel sucked in a shaky breath and bit out, “I’m…I’m sorry. Tell Keeler…I-I can’t today.”

He all but ran from the room. He felt that if he was presented with food he would merely heave it up as soon as he swallowed it down, and he couldn’t insult his uncle after his efforts in the kitchen. So Abel became the first person to arrive at the astronomy dome, the first person to finish his assignments before the room had filled, and he was the one working through the following day’s calculations, hypotheses, and prototypes by the time people were leaving for lunch.

“…bel…”

He cranked on a socket wrench, watching the arm of the prototype wriggle the way he wanted, but there was a gear that wasn’t meshing with others quite right—

“Abel!”

His shoulder was jerked to the side, where Ethos and Keeler were staring at him. Ethos looked worried. Keeler looked angry.

“We’re gonna be late,” Ethos explained apologetically.

Abel glanced around, and realized the next shift of people had already arrived, and yet the last thing he wanted to do was be caged inside a classroom.

“Get going,” Keeler ordered. “I’ll dock hours from your shifts if you try using work as an excuse to skip class.”

Ethos pulled Abel by the elbow, his notebook already in hand as they rushed to their art history course. They stepped inside the room a minute before their professor did. Abel ignored the throbbing in his head and the silent dialogue shared between Praxis and Ethos. He cast his focus to the open pages beneath him, writing formulas and brainstorming as if he had never left the astronomy and robotics lab.

Strangely enough, the sole words from the professor’s mouth that registered in Abel’s mind were the ones dismissing them from class. His mind buzzing, Abel breezed out the door, impatient to get to his next class so he could continue his notes.

His shoulder slammed into someone—or they crashed into him, Abel was not sure—and his body bounced off, hitting the wall as his notebook and pen went flying. Some pages tore from the book and he heard the crunch of his pen under someone’s foot, but the corridor was too full of people exiting their classes to see where everything went. Abel had just enough time to swivel his chin over his shoulder and see the hunter who had smashed his shoulder—a wide man with a round face and a poorly trimmed faux-hawk. On the other side of him, was Phobos, smirking as if he’d been the one to nearly dislocate Abel’s shoulder.

And then Phobos' smirk vanished into a fiery glare. Abel realized someone was standing next to him: Deimos, holding out his notebook to him.

“Thanks…” Abel breathed, but it was drowned by Phobos shouting, “DEIMOS! Get your ass over here!”

Deimos’ pale blue eyes, like moonstones, slid in his direction, but he silently made no move away from Abel.

_Hunting partner._

Abel’s eyes met his, stunned, but understanding. _I doubt anyone would blame you for biting him on occasion,_ he thought in return.

The only show of emotion Deimos gave was a slight lift of his lips and a furrow to his brow. _Disgusting._

Abel couldn’t help but laugh, however the gesture must have set Phobos off, because he came down the corridor, gripped Deimos by the collar of his jacket, and hauled him away. “Hey! Wait!” he cried, following them. “What are you doing?”

“None of your business,” Phobos’s accomplice growled. Abel smelled cheese fries on his fingers when his palm shoved Abel’s face aside, but he persisted.

“Deimos is a grown man! He doesn’t need your permission to do anything! Much less to do something nice for someone!”

Phobos cast a scowl over his shoulder, and the man with the faux-hawk jabbed his elbow into Abel’s stomach. He gargled a cough, doubling over and collapsing onto the ground. A thread of saliva slipped out of the corner of his mouth, his eyes blurring as he tried to look up…Phobos was taking Deimos around to a side hallway—one that ended with a door outside.

Jumping to his feet and wiping his mouth despite his vision blurring, Abel ran after them. Did Phobos know Deimos was a vampire? If so, threatening him with the sun was cruel and unusual punishment for handing back someone’s notebook. If he didn’t know…

Abel skidded to a stop between them and the door; his back slammed noisily against the glass that shed an angle of light over the floor. “You can’t take him outside!” he blurted.

“Pfft. Why not?” Phobos grated.

 _Shit, lie lie lie!_ Abel told himself. “Because they're doing construction outside!” _Wow, do better next time._

Phobos stared at him like his I.Q. was in the negatives. “I don’t hear anything, you dumb twat. Get out of my way. My partner and I need to have a chat outside.”

Abel thought rapidly, wondering what could be the quickest, sure-fire way to distract Phobos…insults. Abel stood erect, trying to appear calm and casual. “I’m not surprised you have need of a partner. Something as simple as a notebook sets you off—I can’t imagine what a rogue vampire in the field does to you. Obviously the one who knows how to control himself is Deimos. Aren’t hunters supposed to be paragons of stability, control?” Abel cleared his throat and pointed to the other end of the hallway. “You have an audience.”

Phobos and company peered over their shoulders, where a host of vampire students was watching keenly, unabashedly. A cord in Phobos’s neck stood out while a muscle ticked in his jaw. He looked once more to Abel as he released Deimos. “You know, dare I say it, you have a point. I’m not pissed at him. I’m pissed at you. Let’s take this outside.”

“What,” Abel blurted dumbly before Phobos’s palms slammed into his chest, shoving him out the door. He stumbled over the threshold and landed on his back, the wind knocked from his lungs and he was sure grass stains were moistening his uniform.

“Jesus hell,” Phobos cursed with a laugh. “You fucking glow in the sunlight. I’ve never seen anyone so pale. Abel, allow me to introduce you to the sun, which you clearly haven’t met before.”

Abel stood shakily to his feet. Phobos was all talk but his companion seemed to be the muscle, and sure enough, Abel narrowly ducked before his fist collided with his skull. Apparently his ego was as fragile as Phobos’s, because he growled and swung a leg right into Abel’s stomach, sending him across the grass.

“You’re worse than a rag doll,” Phobos insulted. “Didn’t anyone teach you not to piss off the people bigger than you?”

But he could barely hear anything. A long, wavering note— PPPIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNGGG— was ringing between Abel’s ears. He was oddly aware of how green the grass was…scratchy yet soft…the sun was warm, soaking through his hair while the breeze fluttered through it. Behind the sound reverberating around his skull was a dull ache, and excruciating pain slowly making itself known. The pain numbed his gums, made his inhalations shallow. His eyes felt huge in their sockets, the thin lids and surrounding skin sinking deeper around the orbs.

He was rising, lifted from the grass. He could feel the perfume of greenery pulled from his nostrils; his hand fell, as if reaching for the bed of clean, fresh nature. His body flopped limply over steel bars…no…someone’s arms. Abel felt the side of his body held firmly against someone else’s torso. The sun was bright through is eyelids, and yet everything was dark as his head hung back over his holder’s elbow.

Somewhere in his haze, he knew people were yelling, but the pain crawling along his spine, fusing with the marrow in his bones was finally being relieved in his gums. A piercing tingle, like cool water trickling over scalding rocks, was tickling his gums. The ache in the back of his throat ebbed as he felt a familiar sharpness press into his tender bottom lip.

His head turned, the breeze bringing a soft, warm, yet powerful smell to his nostrils, his lungs. It was male, strong, yet flowery and vanilla. Abel raised his head for it, his cheek brushing a bare bicep that smelled the way molten amber surely would have smelled if it had a scent. His eyes opened to slits, and part of him wanted to laugh since the skin tone was amber as well, but he wanted more of that perfume, that cologne, that odor, and he knew where to find it.

His heart was throbbing in his chest, beating erratically as he climbed the lean, strong torso. His hands gripped behind the neck, feather light as his lips pressed against the narrow river that pulsed a steady, powerful beat…

“Abel? What the hell are you—”

He bit, _hard._ Instinct told him to retract his fangs somewhat, and blood followed, gushing into his waiting mouth. Abel sucked furiously, clinging to this body that was giving him life, _was_ life, and Abel wanted every drop of it.

Maybe it was the hand in his hair, pulling at him, or it was his own greed, but Abel’s fangs ripped a short line across the throat, opening the artery entirely.

“Cain!” someone cried as gravity tipped, but Abel’s mouth never left his throat, gulping down the crimson tide flowing from his heart.

“What the fuck is happening?”

“That’s Abel!”

“He’s a vampire!”

“But the sun is out! He’s not burning!”

“He won’t let go! He’s fucking wrapped around him like iron!”

“What the hell is he? Vampires can’t do that!”

“He’s something ancient—”

Suddenly, Abel’s gut wrenched, threatening to flip over inside his body. His jaws released Cain as blood spewed from his throat. Abel tried to throw himself away from Cain as blood vomited from his lips, the acrid taste of liquid smoke burning his esophagus, tingling on the inside of his lips, and blazing in his veins. Everything he took from Cain was now retching from his system in powerful convulsions. A sickening heave escaped Abel’s throat, gargling on the blood and turning it into garnet foam around his lips.

Instead of swallowing life, Abel felt like he was dying, and the only coherent thread of thought inside his head was that the sensation was utterly familiar.


	3. We Match

_A door rattled inside its frame. He recognized his pale, spidery hands on it._ My hands shouldn’t be so skinny, _he thought,_ a child’s hands should be chubby, like a cherub's. I’m so hungry.

_The door was made of steel, batten and hatched in iron, bolted in titanium for good measure, but still it rattled and clanged in its frame, shaken by his desire to be freed._

_“Mom! Please!” he cried, shaking the door with harsh CLANG CLANG CLANGs. “Mom, please! I’m hungry! I’m just hungry! Mama!”_

_He could feel time passing, seconds dragging and yet he did not know how long he was down here. The door did not rust. The lack of windows did not reveal the passage of the sun or moon. The stars were blocked from him, and his only company was the door staring back at him. Whether he trembled from hunger or the cold, he did not know, but every time he gripped the door’s latch, every time he rammed himself against the door, pulling and tugging, every time he breathed against it, his heat created condensation. Those silver droplets plagued his eyes, taunting his parched throat._

_He licked them, trying to taste something else but the drops tasted like the steel. Sometimes his hunger would lash out, and he screamed until his voice was hoarse, cracked and failing._

_“MOM! DAD! I’M HUNGRY! WHY WON’T YOU FEED ME! I’LL BE GOOD! I’LL DO ANYTHING! FEED ME! FEED! I’M HUNGRY! I’M SO HUNGRY! I CAN’T—Mmph!”_

_He always wound up biting his lip. His fangs would extend too long, demanding until they found what they wanted. He winced at the cold pain in his lip, but he always wound up biting harder, slicing his lip open and sucking it in, tasting himself and feeding until he was weak but at least his stomach was full…_

Abel’s eyes fluttered open. The rear of his throat felt bruised and his brain felt as if it was too large for his skull. A dull, but prominent ache was in his bones, his tendons, throbbing along his elbows and forearms, in his throat and through his ankles.

“He’s conscious,” someone uttered.

“Sedate him. He’s not ready,” another person answered.

 _No, please…_ he wanted to say, but his chapped lips were not moving. _Please don’t send me back to that room. I’ll do anything. I’m just hungry…_

But the world was fading, growing black until it was the shadow of the door he looked upon once more.

Meanwhile, Cain stood from his cot, grimacing as his head swam. He sucked in a breath as his fingers discovering a thick, padded band around his neck like a fucking collar. His eyes locked on a petite figure standing by the end of his bed. “Where is he?” he growled.

Deimos said nothing, but his bright eyes slid to the far end of the medical unit, where a door barred the way to the private rooms.

Cain removed the I.V. needle from his wrist and along with the transfusion needle from his elbow. A nurse scurried over before blood dripped over the crinkly sheets and soaked into the shitty mattress. “Sir, you’re not finished!”

Ignoring her, he stalked toward the door marked _Private Singles_ and strode right through it. He knew which room was Abel’s due to how many people stood in front of the window, like they were looking at an exhibit. So much for privacy.

“Hey! Scram! Can’t you read? This area is private!” he growled. Never mind that he was technically breaking the rules; he was a hunter and a guard over the vampires before he was ever considered a runty student. He recognized some of the peepers as teachers and deans of the academy, which only made him grit his teeth. “Did I stutter or are you lot deaf? FUCK OFF!”

They scampered quickly enough, casting him ogling looks due to the band around his neck and the sunken bags under his eyes. He knew what they and others were likely to be saying, how such an established hunter got jumped, and in broad fucking daylight.

He glared through the polished glass at the ghostly figure on the bed. Cain had needed one transfusion needle in his arm, but Abel had them all over his body...like a pin cushion. He felt a presence beside him, so he asked, “What are they doing to him?”

“Your blood is toxic.”

He cast an astounded look at the bulky man next to him. Cain recognized him as one of the vampire deans, his silver eyes and chocolate skin making him look almost human. Almost.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he grated, not because he was angry, but because his throat was dry and the collar around his neck inhibited proper throat expansion for air.

Encke explained, “The chemicals in your cigarettes poisoned his system. That’s why he attacked and then retched all over you.”

Cain peered down at himself, realizing that someone had washed him and changed his clothes. He vaguely recalled the moment Abel had taken his fangs out of him, only to spew crimson all over his shoulder... Cain had heard Deimos’ name shouted in the hallway after class, and had approached to see what the fuss was, only to find a crowd of nosy vampires huddled in front of the door. Shoving them aside, it was not Deimos he had found, but Abel, collapsed on the ground between some prick named Phobos and his mindless counterpart, Porthos. Cain had promptly given Porthos a cracked jaw and a black eye while Phobos ran like a coward. He’d scooped Abel off the ground, turned, and confronted a wall of vampires lurking in the shadows of the hallway, watching but not crossing into the sunlight. Someone called to him to watch out, to look at Abel, and when he did, he hardly believed the tips of white fangs protruding between Abel’s parted lips, much less the feel of them sinking into his neck.

“Are you saying a vamp can’t handle tobacco?” he scoffed. If this was the case, it was a wonder why more hunters didn’t smoke as a natural defense.

Encke peered at him, not amused. “Tobacco is fine. It flavors the blood and some of us find it delicious. It’s the chemicals in modern cigarettes we can’t stand, but we can make do. Abel is different.”

“Yeah, no shit,” he harrumphed. “I caught that when he bit me under the sun. What the hell is he?”

“He’s progenitorial,” Encke answered quietly.

Cain’s brows lifted while his lashes drooped in deadpan expression. “He’s _what?”_

Encke glared at him as if he was something stuck to his shoe. “I’m only telling you this because all of the vampires already know; we knew the moment he stepped onto the property, and after today, the news will spread around. His bloodline is progenitor. All these other vamps you scoff at, myself included, we’re just mixed mutts of the species. _He,”_ Encke nodded through the glass toward Abel, “is the original deal. Pure and pure. He is likely the last of his kind. Progenitor bloodlines were either eliminated or went into hiding once the peace between hunters and vampires was established.”

Cain frowned. “Wouldn’t the pros want to rise up and be champions of the peace or work with the hunters to keep it intact?”

“Weren’t you listening?” Encke chided. “Most of the families were eliminated. Progenitors are the only vampires who can control other vampires—they _did_ work with the hunters to establish peace, and they are the only reason such a thing was able to be possible. But that doesn't mean the humans trusted them. To keep vampires under control, hunters went around killing the royal families, including grandparents, newly weds, and babes. Open any history tome in this place, and I guarantee you won’t find a word about progenitors, nor how the Hunters’ Society was too weak minded to keep their side of the bargain.”

His silver eyes returned to Abel and his transfusion pumps. There were bags filling with his discarded blood while fresh hemoglobin flushed his system. Cain understood now why he was in the faculty’s dorm instead of anywhere else: he didn’t belong in any of the other dorms. The vampires would be too antsy with a pro among them, and with their track record, the hunters would lop his head off the moment they found out…

“What is the deal with pros, exactly?” Cain ventures. “Obviously they can survive sun exposure. I’ve seen Abel eat food too…before he threw it up.”

“Progenitors are everything vampires and humans are,” he explained. “They thrive in sunlight just as humans do, and can live happily on food and blood alike.”

“Then why does Abel keep throwing up everything?” Cain inquired. “Is it possible for a progenitor to have an eating disorder?”

For a long moment, Encke appeared as if he was not going to answer. He gazed into the room, watching the bags slowly empty, slowly fill…

“Abel is…broken,” he uttered.

Cain arched a brow. “What, like a vase? Give me something I can understand.”

“I’ve told you what you need to know,” Encke rebuked. “You’re asking for information you have no right to, nor is it my place to give it to you.”

“Considering the little shit took a bite out of me, I have every right!” He braced his feet and faced Encke fully. “I need to know every detail, broken or otherwise, about him so I can be ready if his _retractable_ fangs come out again! Would you care to explain why the fuck his fangs act like cat claws?”

Encke shocked him with his speed. A millisecond later, Cain’s scalp was burning as Encke gripped his hair, angling his head backward. He realized he had stitches in his neck because he could feel them pulling.

“The only thing you need to know,” the vampire growled, “is how the boy in there is worth fifty of you. And before you start trying to work your hunter supremacy on him, know that if I ever hear you breaking into the dormitory or his room again, I’ll tear your throat open myself.”

Cain grit his teeth, not pleased at all by how Encke held his arm behind his back and the grip in his hair. _I’m losing my touch,_ he complained to himself, but even more so, he was unnerved by how he couldn’t move. Encke’s grip was like an iron vice, unyielding in any way. Cain began to wonder if the peace between vampires and hunters was a ruse--if Encke was this strong, how many secrets and advantages were the others hiding? He also understood that if someone as indistinguishable as Abel could use Encke as a tool…well no wonder the hunters had flipped shit and betrayed the pros.

Suddenly, he was released, and Cain rubbed his stitches through the centimeter-thick collar. Without a word, Encke entered Abel’s room, where a man with a braid as silvery-blond as Abel’s turned around and began conversing with him.

The man who approached him next was not a vampire, so Cain heard him coming, but it unnerved him how he could identify the tread fall with the man. “Bering.”

The man chuckled. Cain never knew why he found Cain’s disregard for his superior so amusing. “How did you feel?”

He rolled his eyes. “Like I was sucked dry and refilled.”

The commander stroked his trimmed facial hair as he uttered, “It was quite a bite. Oddly cleaner than I’d anticipated, but you will bear a scar. How did things go beforehand?”

He grimaced at the memory. “He vomited as soon as he got into the room. You can take your keys back, I’m not fucking a retching time bomb.”

Commander Bering chuckled again, causing Cain’s anger to inch its way to the surface. “It is out of my hands, now.” He turned to peer at Cain keenly. “You seem fond of him. Quite a marvel when usually you only have a fondness for people you’ve killed.”

Cain’s eyes narrowed. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

Bering’s brows lifted innocently as he plucked the metal claw to disengage the padding around Cain’s neck. “Quite the opposite,” he murmured, ignoring Cain’s grimace as he grazed a thumb over the fine sutures. “I intended for you to get close to him, watch over him, even if that meant using your crude methods. You will forgive me for finding amusement in the turned tables.”

Cain’s eyes widened slightly, deciphering his meaning before Bering resealed the collar and looked him dead in the eyes to say, “You’re marked as _his_ bitch, now.”

*******

Abel lifted his eyelids as if they were shields of metal, refusing to open. Long, slim fingers were caressing his forehead, carding through his hair. Behind Keeler, he saw the surroundings of his room, particularly the massive glass cave in which Tantos rested on his tree.

“The aquarium came,” he exclaimed, although it came out as more of a broken whisper.

Keeler breathed a laugh. “It’s nice to know where your priorities lie.”

Abel could feel the places where needles had been embedded in his veins. “What happened?”

The smile faded from his uncle’s face as he said, “Phobos was being himself, but you got it into your head to get between him and his hunting partner. Cain stepped in, but… Abel, your parents never fed you blood, did they?”

Suddenly Abel’s head throbbed like the bruised holes in his elbow, neck, and ankles. _Cain._ “Is he…?”

Keeler huffed a laugh. “He is very much alive. Strangely enough, you are the one who almost died.”

Abel’s relief came out in a rush. He felt his chest clench as tears dewed his eyes. He barely knew the hunter, and he could not say he was overly fond of Cain, but he certainly never wished him dead.

“Abel…” Keeler purred, bringing his attention back. “Was Cain’s the first blood you’ve tasted?”

He would have given anything to be able to sink into the mattress and just disappear, but as it was, he reluctantly shook his head. Keeler seemed both mildly surprised but also understanding of his answer. “It must have been the first taste you’d had in a long time, but you can’t survive on just food alone.”

“You do,” Abel pointed out weakly.

Keeler gazed down at him affectionately, but sadly. “I’m only half-progenitor. I can get by.”

Abel frowned, his eyes wandering over the pleasant hum of Keeler’s mind and his quietly beating heart. He felt the same magnetic pull, like two electric charges finding one another to make a light bulb flash. “But you’re a vampire. I’ve only seen you eat…”

Keeler’s fingers resumed their stroking over his scalp. “My father was human. I am able to tolerate a higher ratio of food to blood, but if I don’t give my body what it wants…” He paused, and for a long moment Abel wondered if he would continue. “Let’s just say my relationship with Encke began much like your encounter with Cain.”

Abel swallowed thickly. God, Cain must be furious. He came to help him only to be attacked, and the man’s ego was probably shattered by his hunting colleagues reminding him how a skinny, starved vampire tore his neck open…but Abel could feel a ghost of that tan flesh on his lips…and Cain’s smell. Oh, his smell…a bottle could never capture the fragrance.

“Am I expelled?”

Keeler guffawed, then. “Do you really think that massive aquarium would get hauled all the way up here if you were leaving us?”

The tears broke free and slipped down Abel’s temples. “Thank you,” he barely whispered.

His uncle’s blond brows lifted ominously. “Don’t assume things will be easy. As of yet, we are in a state of limbo. The incident with Cain happened so quickly none of the hunters actually witnessed it happen. Phobos and Porthos had run off, and vampires were blocking the view from other students, so…only a select few humans know, but all the vampires are keeping eerily hush hush about it. Ever since you arrived, they have been acting utterly different.”

“They don’t act differently for you?” Abel wondered.

“Since I’m only half of your bloodline,” Keeler explained, “I’m only listening in to the frequency. I can hear and feel the telekinetic bonds among vampires, but there is static. I am not nearly tapped in the way you are. I am fairly certain most of the people here don’t even know my last name, otherwise it would be more widely known you are my nephew.”

“Who were the voices?” Abel wondered as more memories resurfaced. “You say the vampires are keeping quiet but I heard people screaming…”

“Well…” Keeler tipped his head acquiescently. “This is partially a school. We can’t expect all of the vampires to be mature, and history has become so warped, it was probably a shock to see a vampire feeding on a hunter in the middle of a sunny day.”

Abel blushed furiously, he was so embarrassed. Everything was mess because of him… He reached up a clumsy hand to feel the flush of his cheeks. “Why am I warm?”

“Cain’s blood contains the toxins from the cigarettes he breathes. After you threw up his blood, we flushed your system with clean, organic goodness, and even topped up your tank to keep your fangs at bay.”

He could feel the truth in Keeler’s words: for the first time in his memory, he felt calm, full…but with every second ticking by, he could also feel the satiated contentment ebbing away. He was full, but it would not last. He was always hungry.

“Abel, until we get the situation with the vampires under observation and while we wait to see if the hunters become aware of recent events, I want you to act as if nothing is wrong,” Keeler informed. “If you eat in the mess hall, use the food side, but I keep a blood bank in my room for Encke and me which you will be welcome to use.”

“I can’t,” Abel countered tersely. He could feel his uncle’s eyes on him, silently asking why. “I can’t…control it,” he finished. “If I start, I can’t stop.”

He picked at the threads of his comforter, trapped beneath the waves of shame and fear beating against him. “I know what happened to our ancestors, to our cousins, and relatives we don’t hear from anymore. I know the condition some of us have…because I have it. I know what the hunters will do—”

“Hey,” Keeler cut off, gripping Abel’s chin enough so he was forced to look up. “This is your parents’ fault. Not yours. It’s their fault for not teaching you a proper diet, or how to control your urges. But you’re in school, now. You will learn. All right?”

Abel wanted to believe in his words, so desperately he nodded weakly. Keeler leaned in, and pecked a soft kiss on his lips before rising from the bed. “You will return to work once you’re ready. The only rush is how long Ethos can stand up to that prick without you.”

The door shut behind him and Abel heard the automatic click of the lock. For a long while, he stared through the skylight above his head, wondering if there was a way to open it for the fresh air to creep in, to tell him the autumn was receding for winter’s reign. On the fringe of his room, the wall glowed with soft indigo light from the UV lamp for Tantos. The lamp caused heat to trickle over to his side of the room, which was a pleasant feeling as he sank deeper into his plush bedclothes and let slumber wash over him.

The bed sank on an angle, causing Abel to roll off his side and onto his back. His dreams swirled with blue heat and amber odors, the phantom of something familiar flittering over his jaw, his lips…

Cain hovered over him, leaning across his bed. Even in the darkness and his barely open eyes, Abel could make out the tendrils of hair that were still moist from a shower. The clean scent of water and Cain washed over him anew, stronger than ever. In the rear of his mind, Abel knew this was a dream. He barely wanted to be in his own skull, there was no way Cain would come within a mile of him. Further confirmation was the feel of a man’s weight pressing him into the mattress; it was as wonderful as he’d imagined. This notion gave him comfort as the hunter loomed ever nearer, the press of his lips on Abel’s feeling utterly foreign yet not unwanted.

His ears tickled with the sound of a _smooch_ as Cain lifted up far enough to growl huskily, “I am no one’s bitch.”

Then his lips crashed down over Abel’s, hot and demanding, barely gentle. Far away, Abel heard his voice hum involuntarily, until the slick touch of Cain’s tongue brushed his lip and silenced him. Abel pushed back, briefly taking control of the kiss and pushing Cain’s lips apart for him to nibble on his bottom lip. A slight taste of smoke lingered there, in his mouth, but Abel felt his head tilting, willing for a deeper kiss—

Cain lurched back, startled at the deep pinprick against his lip. Looking down, he realized Abel’s fangs had extended. The blonde sleepily huffed a laugh, his eyes on Cain’s split lip. “We match,” he whispered almost cheerfully, waving a clumsy finger at the scar on his own lip.

Cain could feel a warm drop of scarlet sliding toward his chin, but Abel’s head fell back onto the pillow. His eyes were closed as he spoke in his sleep, “You smell so good…but you taste so bad…”

Cain watched as Abel visibly receded from him, washed away to other dreams. He frowned, leaning his weight on one side so his hand could gently wiggle Abel’s face back and forth. “Hey! This isn’t a dream, you fucker! I’m here to make a point…Christ, you sleep like the dead.”

He swung his leg to the edge, where he made the bed and Abel bounce as he sat heavily. Spotting a mirror in the bathroom, he stood and went to his reflection. His visage was illuminated in variant shades of blue and violet from the iguana’s lamp, making his white bandage glow like luminol. He growled deep in his chest when some of the fibers tried to catch on the ends of his stitches, but then there they were, a cross-stitched pattern in the center of the biggest hickey he’d ever seen in his life.

Leaning forward, he examined how the dark purple bruise outlined the main two punctures that were the start of a harsh tear along his throat, before ending in another pair of dots. There were slight cuts and darker bruises where Abel’s other teeth had bitten, but Cain knew Commander Bering was right: this would be a permanent, and obvious scar.

Grabbing a couple squares of toilet paper, he wiped the blood from his chin. His tongue unconsciously licked along the seam of the laceration, causing it to tingle with saliva.

_You taste so bad._

Cain suddenly winced. Why did that bother him? It was a fucking good thing he tasted disgusting, otherwise more vamps would try to have a taste of him…

He removed the steel grey package of cigarettes from his pocket and read the label. There wasn’t exactly a list of ingredients.

_The chemicals in your cigarettes poisoned his system._

His eyes wandered over the warning label, the tobacco company’s defense against lawsuits when a pregnant woman’s kid came out deformed because she was too stupid to chew gum instead of smoke. It was not a secret how there were nearly more chemicals than actual tobacco in cigarettes…but if they were enough to drop Abel from his neck…what were they doing to his body?

 _Maybe I should switch to a pipe,_ Cain considered. _Classier._

He stuffed the bloodied toilet paper and cigarettes into this pocket for disposal later. Taking a second to glance at Abel in the bed, he silently slipped out of the room. Encke and Keeler were still _occupied_ in their room, apparently, because Cain was not stopped as he escaped the dorm.


	4. Electric Sheets

Abel awoke near dawn, feeling far better than he had when he’d spoken with Keeler. Rising from the bed, his muscles felt taut like ropes but the points where the transfusions had occurred were not aching like bullet wounds anymore.

Tantos made himself known on the outmost branch of his tree, so Abel opened the side door and let the iguana climb over his shoulders. The rough green skin was hot against his neck, but Abel welcomed it as he entered the bathroom…and stared at the padding on the counter. A small, steel medical claw was caught on one side, presumably to hold the fabric together around someone’s neck, but Abel had no need, nor any recollection of such a collar—

_I am no one’s bitch._

Abel gaped out the bathroom door, searching his room as if to find Cain lurking in the corners. _That was a dream,_ Abel contemplated internally, _I thought it was a dream, but this is…it has to be his._

Part of Abel’s mind alerted him to how this was not a good idea, but he picked up the collar, and sniffed the exterior of it. _Cain._

He gasped, rearing away from it as he felt his fangs tingling, slowly slipping further out of his gums. Against his better judgment, his fingers flipped the padding over, where a slight brown smear stained the cotton. Leaning forward, he sniffed again, only this time he smelled Cain’s acidic, smoky blood that slithered through his veins. Abel’s fangs retracted instantly, no longer interested in the vile poison.

After soaking it through with hydrogen peroxide, he stuffed it inside the garbage can and tied the bag before dumping it in the corridor disposal bin on his way to Keeler’s. His uncle’s eyes lit up at the sight of the iguana draped on Abel’s shoulders. “Oh my! The king and his chariot have arrived.”

Encke passed behind Keeler and paused only to frown at the lizard. “If that tank is ever leaving, we’re smashing it first. It took three vampires to lift the damn thing.”

Abel’s chin sank a little. “I’m sorry for the trouble.”

Keeler blew a raspberry and waved the matter aside. “No trouble. He likes to complain. Some people always find a cloud on a sunny day.”

Encke’s lips twisted to the side in a pout; as a vampire unwelcome by the sun, clouds were his saving grace. Abel settled at the table in his usual place, taking the initiative in reaching for the boiled eggs, sausage, and fresh fruit—when Encke cleared his throat and Keeler slid a blood bag his way.

“No,” Abel refused.

“By some miracle, the event hasn’t spread around the place,” Encke rebuked, “and we’d like to keep it that way. No more accidents.”

“That wasn’t my fault,” Abel refuted. “Phobos and Porthos beat me. My defenses came out.”

“You were _starving,_ Abel. Of course they came out,” Keeler declared. “The only reason your instincts didn’t snap earlier is because I fear you’ve been taught how to suffer instead of how to live. That ends, now. I can see the veins around your eyes reemerging as we speak. Drink it, Abel. You’ve got the two of us here in case anything goes wrong.”

Abel stared at the bag like it had a personal vendetta against him. He could smell the plastic, which was so far from appetizing it shocked him to feel his fangs elongating. His hand swiftly covered his lips. He’d gone so long without his fangs appearing, he felt lost and vulnerable with them emerging without his consent this often.

Keeler gently pulled his hand to the table. “You needn’t feel embarrassed by this. It’s natural.”

As if hearing the permission given, Abel’s lips parted to accommodate his fangs stretching out to their full length. He felt like a saber tooth tiger, stupidly trapped in tar. Encke reared back slightly, leaning against the spine of his seat. “Shit,” he whispered, “those are some teeth, kid.”

Keeler passed a glare at him, holding Abel’s hand down when it jerked to cover his mouth again. “He’s pure, concentrated progenitor, what did you expect? Go on, Abel.”

He released Abel’s hand so it could tentatively reach for the bag. It sagged awkwardly in his hands, gooey red bubbles forming along the air pockets. He glanced between the older men. “Do I just…bite into it?”

This time, Encke raised a mildly surprised brow, whereas Keeler was the one who reacted. He sighed haughtily. “It is a comfort the hunters won’t bat an eyelash when I murder your parents. This goes beyond hunger control; it’s child neglect if they didn’t even teach you how to suck a blood bag. Here.”

Abel watched as he took the bag, and twisted a kind of plastic stopper on the end so it broke off and he could drink from it like a straw. His fangs did not make it easy to ingest through a tube. His instincts wanted to pull his lips back, open his jaw, and bite, but instead he had to carefully tuck his fangs behind his lips, and close them around the straw-like opening. Abel sucked, his eyes locking on the rush of crimson liquid flowing up from the bag…

He blinked, confused. Far from the sudden loss of control he’d been expecting, his lips slipped off the bag, his fangs back in his gums, and he coughed the blood out. Red splattered across the table and food while Keeler hastily reached for a napkin to wipe Abel’s mouth and catch his last few coughs. Abel shook his head dejectedly and mumbled, “That’s not good…”

“What was wrong with it?” Keeler wondered, dumbfounded.

“It… It’s gross,” Abel admitted. “It feels like syrup in my mouth and doesn’t taste much better.”

Keeler’s expression relaxed in a vacant, contemplative look before his brow softly furrowed. Abel almost asked what was wrong, as if his uncle was remembering something long forgotten, but he stood from the table and announced, “I’ll wash the fruit off for you, then. I’m assuming you’re intent on resuming work and classes today?”

“I’d,” Abel grimaced as he gulped residual blood down his throat, “like to.”

Keeler set the bowl down, but the cube of pineapple in his mouth tasted bitter and sour simultaneously with the blood lingering on his tongue. His uncle told him, “Eat as much as you can, then I’ll walk with you to the robotics lab.”

Abel managed a few strawberries before he stood with Keeler and stopped by his room to drop Tantos off and change into his pale uniform. He haphazardly ran a brush through his light hair, and the door locked behind him. As they walked, Keeler peeked over his shoulder, causing Abel to do the same.

 _Deimos,_ he acknowledged silently.

The mute vampire easily lengthened his strides to catch up with him. _You look better,_ his calm whisper greeted inside Abel’s head.

 _I feel better,_ Abel agreed, and he couldn’t help but ask, _Why are you here? Won’t Phobos be angry?_

Deimos shrugged. _He is always angry._

That wasn’t quite the answer Abel was expecting, but he let the matter go. After an awkward moment of silence Abel introduced, “Keeler, this is Deimos. Deimos, Keeler.”

His uncle looked back to give a silent nod, which gave Abel cause to think Deimos solely communicated through his mind, but this was an advantage exclusive to vampires. _How do you talk to Cain and Phobos?_

_Quietly._

Abel’s brows reached for his hairline. Deimos was as chatty as he was loud. _Erm…are we walking in the same direction or are you following me for someone?_

_Both._

_May I ask who?_

_Yes._

Abel sighed loudly. For so few words, talking with Deimos was exhausting. He fixed the swarthy man with a pointed look, only to receive a discrete smile. They reached the atrium, and Abel knew this was where their paths dissected. “Well, good day, then.”

_Abel._

He paused, mildly surprised as he pivoted to meet Deimos’ pale topaz eyes.

_How did he taste?_

Abel felt bile swell the back of his throat. Under other circumstances, he would have thought Deimos was mocking him, but his face was placid; if he knew Deimos better, he would have called his expression stern, or something else. _Like smoke,_ he responded honestly, and lengthened his stride to catch up with Keeler.

He took two steps under the dome of the robotics and astronomy wing before he was heralded by Ethos’ voice. “Abel!” he exclaimed, clumsily rising from his seat and jogging over. “I heard you were in the medic unit! After class it was so hectic, you just got swept off—Praxis helped me along but I didn’t know you fell beneath everyone’s feet!”

Abel cast an inquiring thought towards Keeler, who thought back, _The vampires are covering up what happened. We’re not entirely sure why, yet. Just go with it._

Abel cleared his throat, “Erm, yeah, the mob can be dangerous. But I’m okay.”

Ethos smiled with relief, and something from it had a cathartic effect on Abel. He felt the snake in his belly ease, as if he was just now realizing that he had every right to be relieved. He had almost died. Cain was alive. Everything was fine.

“I took notes for you,” Ethos was saying while they took their stations. “You know, Commander Cook actually sat in our class while you were out? I’m sorry you missed him; the way he carries himself is really distinct…”

Abel listened contently while Ethos prattled on over the things he had missed during his absence, but he could not help but cast a glance behind him to see Phobos’s workstation empty. He found the man farther back in the room, working with a partner on something with his back to Abel. He liked that just fine.

What he didn’t like, was the realization of what classes he had today. “Abel? You don’t look so good,” Ethos observed when he came over to walk together to their art history class. Despite his earlier confidence, Abel certainly felt as bad as he looked.

_I can’t go to that class. Cain’s in that class. Vampires are in that class. They’re all going to stare at me. They’re all going to try and speak to me. Cain will…_

“I’m fine,” he lied surprisingly easily. “Let’s go. I don’t like being late.”

The journey through the atrium and down the darkened corridors was a blur, though. Abel could not recall his footfalls on the marble flooring, nor whether he saw any heads turn his way, but his eyes alighted on the open doorframe of his class and he passed through it. He followed Ethos mechanically to their usual seats at the back of the class, and only once his rear was in the seat did he venture to scan the room, particularly the seat to his left—

For a staggering moment, Abel marveled at the strange length of Cain’s hair and freckles before he realized it wasn’t Cain. Abel quickly ducked his chin before the person caught him staring, choosing to open his notebook to his doodles until the professor joined them. With all eyes ahead, he let his gaze roam the space again, but Cain was nowhere in sight. He had been notorious for missing this class, so Abel considered that he should not be wholly surprised, but a part of him wanted to get the shock out of the way; to just meet Cain’s accusatory glare and be done with it.

Then he noticed a strange pattern in the room: he was surrounded by black and white uniforms. Vampires were given both sets of soot grey and marshmallow white garments, so they were distinguishable for mix-matched them. Only Praxis with his dark raiment and Abel and Ethos’ white uniforms stood out in a cloud of checkered attire. The other hunters and civilian students were seated around the edges of the room, oblivious to the change. Abel’s shoulders hunched slightly, unsure how to feel about the sudden fondness he was attracting by the vampire population of the academy.

The classroom door opened, pulling everyone’s gaze to the tall figure entering with a white uniform but knee-high black boots and rimless spectacles adorning his eyes. “Commander Cook,” their professor greeted. “Is it my turn for analysis?”

“Dr. Milligan is feeling under the weather and had to cancel. I apologize for switching your allotted times,” the man said in a voice that was strangely quiet despite its ability to carry across the classroom.

“It’s no trouble. I’m only sorry we haven’t any spare seats—”

“We do, professor,” Praxis amended. “One of us is absent.”

Both the art historian and Commander Cook’s gaze landed on the lone desk beside the shuttered and curtained window. “Ah yes,” the former acknowledged with a practiced frown. “Again, it seems. Well, better blessings have come from stranger places. Make yourself comfortable, Commander.”

“Thank you,” he answered tersely but not unkindly, and strode silently across to the seat. Abel sat two rows over and two seats back, so he had an acute view of the man in charge of the school. It was an urban legend that the hunter in charge of finishing the war against vampires was the one who first established this school, but that was a long time ago. The academy had a board of trustees that had to approve every dean admitted into the school, and together with the deans they promoted someone to be the Commander of both the civilian and hunter sides of the population. It was a time consuming occupation that involved an immense amount of travel, making the Commander's presence an anomaly.

Those cool blue eyes moved and landed on him, like an invisible javelin striking him where he sat, but Abel could not look away. The Commander’s eyes were so light they were silver across the distance, but then he caught Abel off guard by a muted smile. It was barely noticeable and it vanished as quickly as it had appeared once he returned his gaze to the teacher he was observing, but it lingered in Abel’s memory as he and Ethos made their way to their next class and then dinner.

Abel kept his eyes firmly placed on one of two things as he made his way through the food lines: his tray or Ethos’ backside. His gaze only strayed to meet Praxis’s eyes to share a laugh or to make sure he was reaching for the sautéed pumpkin instead of the pickled anchovies before he followed the roommates to a table. Setting down his tray with a slight clatter, Abel was pleasantly surprised by how willingly he dived into his meal. The pumpkin was sweet and the white balsamic asparagus oddly went well with it; even the heavy pesto pasta went down easily.

“…so I asked where the store was in their language, but I must have gotten a word wrong because the shop we arrived at was for dildos, not doughnuts,” Praxis was saying. Ethos hastily covered his mouth to keep from spewing asparagus across the table but Abel’s shoulders shook with his laughter as he lifted his eyes to sympathize with the hunter—

Across the dining hall sat Cain, in an almost identical seating arrangement as Praxis so he was able to meet Abel’s shocked stare over Praxis’s shoulder. Some tables and students separated them, but Cain sat slouched over his own tray, watching him keenly.

Abel kept his eyes up just long enough to notice who was in his company and ducked back down. _Deimos,_ he thought, trying to send his thoughts directly to one person instead of the whole dining hall. _Why is he staring at me?_

 _I think that should be obvious,_ came the reply fluidly.

Abel sighed heavily. _You’re so helpful._

He planted his fork in his pasta and scooted slightly over so Praxis’s frame shielded him from view. He figured Cain would be pissed about the incident but did he have to stare so obviously across the room? If he cared so damn much about his dignity, this wasn’t the best way to salvage it, was it? Abel returned his focus to the dialogue between Praxis and Ethos, pushing his food around his plate despite his current lack of appetite.

 _What the hell are you scooting over for?_ Cain wondered peevishly from his side of the cafeteria. _I’m the one with the hickey from hell._

It had been quite a surprise to find the blonde sauntering in after his classmates when he should have been bedridden, but Cain supposed catalyst healing was a perk of being a progenitor. Which reminded him… _You’re a frigging pro but you’re afraid to face me—why the fuck do you keep smiling at him?_

Cain’s glare darkened at the flash of Abel’s smile toward Praxis. It was dimmer than the initial squinty-eyed grin he’d worn when he had spotted Cain, but what the hell could Praxis be saying that was so funny? A lump of coal like him couldn’t make a hyena laugh…

He flipped the page of his textbook so quickly it tore in half, earning an inquiring look from Deimos. “Shut it,” Cain retorted. “I’m researching.”

A single brow lifted.

“I’m perfectly allowed to read when it suits me,” he retorted.

The expression remained.

“Look, you’re smart enough to not say anything stupid so do you know anything about vampire saliva? Or maybe something being excreted when they bite someone?”

Deimos merely shook his head, but the hush of air through his nose showed he was laughing. Cain growled to himself and planted his chin in his hand as he perused through the book once more. A burning ache was throbbing in the back of his chest, begging for a cigarette but he shoveled mashed potatoes and beef chunks into his mouth to quiet it. The extra intake of food would drive him to the gym and training grounds later, but extra fitness would only help his prowess along with keeping the cravings at bay.

His attention swooped up at the three individuals leaving the cafeteria, and his book snapped shut.

Abel placed his tray in the dish pit and followed between Ethos and Praxis into the atrium before they parted ways to go to their separate corridors. Abel was almost to the landing where the faculty dorm was when he was yanked into a square alcove usually reserved for a window and a bronze bust of a former dean.

“Shh, shh easy, princess,” Cain hushed when Abel squealed against his hand.

“What are you doing?” he exclaimed, shoving the fingerless glove and the taste of leather away from his lips. “Haven’t you had enough of my company?”

“We need to have a chat,” Cain segued right to it. “About this.”

He tugged the collar of his sleeveless turtleneck down and watched Abel take a step back from his work. “I didn’t mean to do that,” he returned limply.

“That’s a weak apology,” Cain sassed. “Try harder, sweet heart.”

He would be lying if he said he did not like the resilient defiance that emerged within Abel’s eyes. “I’m sorry I bit you, but that doesn’t give you the right to sneak into my room whenever you like.”

“Oh, so you were awake,” he cooed.

Abel’s lashes dusted over his cheeks as he glanced away. “You left something behind…”

Cain frowned until it dawned on him. “Right, the collar. Was there much blood on it? I didn’t mean to leave it but I suppose it was a nice treat to wake up to. Did you rub off with it to relieve morning salutes—”

_Schmak._

Cain’s chin jerked to the side with the slap, where he moved his jaw to ease the pain. “You’re a quick trigger to trip.”

“Because you always say these unnecessary things,” Abel defended, “and now you’re putting yourself in my business, where you don’t need to be. We don’t have to interact with each other ever again. Can you leave me alone?”

This gave Cain pause. For a long minute he processed Abel’s reasoning and request before he realized what was _off_ about it: it was innocent. There was a level of naivety in his words and tone that gave Cain the inclination to think that Abel was as closeted to himself as the rest of the world was. “You don’t know what this means, do you?” he inquired, pointing to the wound now covered by black fabric. “Why I have to cover it up.”

Again Abel cast his gaze anywhere but him. “I get it: your hunting buddies will tease you or even ostracize you. I said I’m sorry.”

Cain shook his head while his thumb stroked over his split lip. “And here I thought you were being crafty by marking me in a place I couldn’t hide.”

“What are you talking about?” Abel’s brow furrowed.

“I mean _this,_ you blond fairy,” he quipped with a gesture toward his mouth.

Abel winced. “Why do you keep calling me these names?”

“Because I can,” he answered curtly. “Let’s keep to the topic, shall we? What are we going to do about this—”

His gaze dropped to the slender, pale finger giving his bicep a poke. The contrast in their skin tones was striking in the moonlight, but Abel was eyeing his arm as if he had never seen muscle definition before. Cain prided himself on being one of the leaner hunters, not having to become bulky with muscle in order to be the fastest and strongest. Abel’s distraction only emphasized how deep in his books he had been stuck.

Cain lifted the hand of that arm to brush the underside of Abel’s jaw, pushing it up while his own lowered…

“No,” Abel intercepted, turning away. “I don’t want to kiss you.”

“You seemed more than willing last night,” he reminded, earning a pouty scowl.

“I’m not accountable for what happens when I’m not in my right mind. I’m also not interested in someone who tastes awful while molesting me in my sleep.”

“It’s not molesting,” Cain returned. “More like courting the subconscious.”

Abel’s eyes were deadpan. “Any other student here would have you tried for assault.”

“But you won’t?” he teased.

“I know you’re an idiot,” Abel sassed. “Obviously your body is just as dumb as your mind, but if you come into my room again I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Cain growled, stepping into his personal space and forcing Abel back a step. He felt the curtains against his shoulder blades. “Tell me. What would you do if you opened your eyes and found me in your shadows? If you felt my fingers in your hair, pulling your mouth up to mine?”

He swooped in for a quick peck on Abel’s lips, catching him off guard. His lashes fluttered as Cain continued, “What if you could touch more than my arm? How do you think it would feel to have my skin on yours? I guarantee my dumb body is quite intelligent where it counts.”

He came in for another kiss, but Abel jerked his face aside, clamping a hand over his mouth. “You’re too close,” he said, his voice muffled while his nostrils flared slightly.

“Why? Tempted to take another sip?” he uttered, looming over Abel.

“You don’t hav—hm!” he whimpered, clamping his eyes shut as if in pain.

The hunter’s cocky expression switched to a puzzled one before he guessed, “Did you just bite yourself?”

Abel tried to shake his head but even with this he was a poor liar. He moved as if to step around Cain, but large hands grasped his shoulders, holding him in place. “No, don’t—” Abel whined, but Cain pulled his wrist away to reveal his fangs and the drop of blood oozing out of his split lip, exactly over his scar. Cain’s gaze turned exploratory, as if the sight of Abel’s fangs fascinated him.

“Is there something special about these?” he wondered, pushing Abel’s bottom lip down in order to stroke a fang. It elongated just a little bit more under his touch; Abel’s eyelids grew heavy. “Is there something more about your bite that’s tied me to you?”

“W-What do you mean?” he tried to ask without biting the fingers on his lips.

“You’re right, we don’t _have_ to interact,” Cain admitted. “Some other hunter could scoop you up, but here I am, volunteering for the job.”

Abel’s eyes opened wide. “Another hunter? What do you mean? What job?”

He was now fully pressed within the embrace of the curtains. For some reason, Cain was infatuated with his lips, wiping the blood away until it healed, testing their suppleness or occasionally stroking the pad of a finger over a fang. His mouth was responsive, and Cain realized that those canines were sensitive, actively reacting to his touch. A drop of blood lingered on his finger, which he carefully inserted into Abel’s mouth, finding the soft heat of his tongue.

“Hm!” he exclaimed, but soon lavished the finger despite himself. His tongue curled around Cain’s second knuckle, his lips closing around him as the appendage slid out.

“Your mind and body don’t seem to agree,” Cain observed. “Every part of you wants me.”

That spark returned to Abel’s eyes when they lifted to frown at him. Coupled with his parted lips and the fangs there, Abel looked every bit a predator. “Don’t stick blood in a vampire’s mouth and expect them to get bored.”

“But it’s your own blood,” Cain smirked. “Does any hemoglobin do it for you as long as it’s clean?”

“We’re not talking about this,” Abel retorted and shoved his hand away. “Leave me alone.”

“No, I don’t think I will,” Cain said, and gripped Abel’s jaw before closing in for a kiss.

“Mm!” he complained at the feeling of those firm lips claiming his. Abel’s hands fisted the fabric of Cain’s shirt, causing him to shudder at the feeling of firm muscle and supple flesh underneath it. Cain purred in his throat, tipping his head for a better angle but the slight break in their lips allowed Abel to gasp for breath. When their lips met again, his fang sliced open the scab on the side of Cain’s mouth.

“Ow! Fucking hell, did you have to slice me open in the exact same place?” he interjected, yanking his turtleneck up to wipe away the blood slithering down his chin.

Abel ducked around him while hastily finding his keys in his pockets. “Serves you right!”

He dashed into the faculty dormitory and felt relief when he shut his bedroom door behind him. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he fed Tantos before shedding his attire for a shower. He stayed in longer than necessary, keeping the water hot enough to produce steam until the temperature began to wane. He ducked out of the bathroom long enough to turn on his electric sheets before retreating to the steamy room to ready for bed. Diving under the covers, Abel shivered into the toasty heat of the sheets. He did not know he had fallen asleep until he was awoken with a bone splitting pain between his ears.

Everything hurt. Even his exhalations were too loud in his ears, the fibers of the bedclothes abrasive when he rolled over, burying his face in the pillow and comforter in order to escape the dawn. It was hardly more than a greyish-blue of first light, but it blazed in his corneas, the fiery darts striking the weak glands of his brain. He was not sure how long he lay there, but he flinched at the clatter of his doorknob turning.

“Abel? Abel,” Keeler said, gently shaking him from the cocoon he’d tucked around himself. “Abel, what’s wrong?”

He moaned weakly when the light from the skylight hit his eyelids. “Migraine.”

“For how long? You missed breakfast.”

He shook his head limply but he might as well have tossed to and fro on a sea. “Since dawn.” He maneuvered himself to burrow back underneath the dark safety of his comforter, but his uncle’s hand stopped him.

“You need blood. It’s convenient today’s Saturday.”

“Mmhm…” Abel croaked, scrunching his eyes shut. He already felt as if his skull was trying to wriggle out of his skin, he did not want to add vomiting bagged blood to the list.

“Abel, open your mouth. Use your fangs.”

Puzzled, he dared to open his eyelids a crack, but he gasped at the sight of the pale skin and turquoise veins being pushed toward his face. “N-No! No!”

“You’re dehydrated and malnourished,” Keeler said impatiently. “This is the quickest way to solve it.”

“But I’ll kill you,” his nephew moaned, wiggling with the shake of his head again.

Keeler sighed but a smirk curved his lips. “I may only be half, but don’t take a progenitor so lightly. Go ahead and take it. Encke need only hear my shout if things go awry.”

Abel tried to look at him to gauge his sincerity but his eyes refused to look any higher than his belt. Like heavy shields, his eyelids shut and he was defenseless to the translucent skin now touching his lips. In the throbbing din of his migraine, the warm tingle of his fangs elongating was oddly pleasant. Keeler adjusted his wrist, pivoting it slightly right as Abel’s fangs lifted and plunged into his flesh.

It was nothing like drinking from a blood bag. His uncle’s flesh was hot and fresh and tasted like his own, only instead of the sparse drops of his split lip this was a steady gush of savory, salty yet sweet nectar. Abel felt as if his body was a sponge, and he was soaking every bit of it into his extremities. Almost immediately he felt the gongs of his headache slow, the pain receding into a powerful throbbing that swayed his body on the mattress to the rhythm of Keeler's heartbeat.

“That’s it,” Keeler breathed. “That should be enough…”

 _But why?_ Abel sobbed internally. Someplace far away he heard Keeler’s sharp intake of breath.

“Because life is lived in moments, and blood must be taken in the same way. Let go, nephew.”

“Ah!” he exclaimed when a sharp pain filled his gums. His teeth unlatched from Keeler’s arm and he fell back on his pillow to see the object of his pain: a fountain pen. Keeler smiled softly as he dropped the utensil into his jacket pocket and pressed a tissue to his wrist.

“And now you’re blood drunk. It will take you the rest of today to dilute it throughout your system, but you should be fine tomorrow.”

“Okay…” Abel whispered, already descending into the waters of slumber. “Thank you…”

Keeler sent him another smile as he shut the door behind him, holding his covered wrist close to his chest. But each step toward his own room made his breathing more ragged, until it was a labor to turn his knob and collapse within Encke’s powerful arms.

“Kee? Kee!” he exclaimed, shaking him as much as he dared.

“I’m all right,” Keeler exhaled, but it was barely audible. “I need…a bag.”

Encke scooped him into his arms and went into their shared bedroom to set him delicately on the bed. Quickly he snapped off the end of a blood bag and pressed it to his bottom lip. Keeler’s petite fangs instinctively slid out, as opposed to Encke’s sharp canines that were always out and ready. His eyes scanned Keeler’s body and locked onto the wound inside his forearm that was trying to heal but wasn't.

Keeler’s chest shook with coughs, forcing him to forgo the bag. “You need me,” Encke deduced.

The blonde smiled bashfully, his lip stained red. “I’m sorry, sweetie.”

“What is there to be sorry for?” Encke snapped but not unkindly. He hoisted the slender man into his lap so his forehead rested in the cradle of his shoulder and collarbone. “Just take it.”

“Abel…needed it,” he explained. “He can’t…”

“Shhh,” Encke hushed. Lifting the pale chin, he bared his neck. “Take it.”

His own teeth gnashed at the piercing sensation in his throat, but his arms tightened around the man he held, as if the slightest jostling would make him shatter to pieces. Keeler’s gentle, flowery scent teased his senses, inducing Encke’s hand to find the loosely braided mass of snowy hair. Embedding his fingers there, he held Keeler until he felt his eyelids grow heavy, felt his own hunger reach such a height that he forced the unfinished bag between his lips.

Carefully pulling Keeler back by his hair, Encke set the lethargic vampire on the pillows. Those silver eyelashes fluttered as one of his hands fidgeted for him, reaching and finding Encke’s knee. He grasped that hand, its skin so pale he could see the bone of his knuckles and metacarpals.

“I’m right here, love. I’ll look after you,” he promised.

Keeler’s lips, now blushed red along with his rosy cheeks, parted while his eyes fluttered shut. As he descended into his blood drunkenness, Encke made sure the office, bedroom, and windows were locked. He only left Keeler once to make sure Abel’s room was similarly secure.

Cain, however, growled to himself in the atrium that evening. It was after dinner and just about everyone who had a social bone in their head was caught up with each other in the wide open space. Even the vampires were out since only moon and starlight shined through the windows. By all accounts, it was a picture-perfect night with humans and vampires fulfilling the peace so bloodily earned.

But Cain grimaced as discretely as he could when one of the female hunters touched his arm. He leaned into Deimos in order to evade the attention. “Get off, Anna.”

“Oo hoo, what’s gotten into you?” the slim but strongly built woman cooed. She tossed a long tress of ebony hair over her shoulder. “Don’t get your knickers caught. I was just getting some hair off your shirt. Have you got a pet cat or something?”

He peered down at himself, wondering how a hair could have gotten onto him. He had not seen Abel since last night and he had since changed clothes but he chuckled to himself. “Yeah. A feisty kitten.”

Speaking of…

“Hey, where is the new kid? Shouldn’t he be here?” Cain ventured. His eyes searched the crowd. “He tends to hang around with that oaf, Praxis, and the chubby runt he’s always with.

“Ethos?” Anna reiterated.

Cain sent her a deadpan glance. “You know his name?”

She shrugged. “I’m considerate like that. Plus he’s cute, and not what I would define as chubby…just roundish features.”

Cain’s dark eyes rolled, garnering a punch in his shoulder. He knew there would be a bruise by morning. “If you’re talking about the sexy blond guy, I haven’t seen him,” Anna informed. “But there are plenty of people who aren’t here. It’s not a requirement to socialize.”

“Maybe it should be,” Cain muttered, but Anna heard it.

Her head perked up. “Oh? Got a crush?”

Cain outright grimaced this time. “I’m not a fucking _rebenok._ And what do you mean he’s sexy?”

Anna guffawed, her body falling back along the bench they shared. Cain lifted a brow at her leg draping his knee. When she finally wiped tears from her eyes she purred, “You’ve got it bad, huh? This is new; I think I like seeing you a little out of control. You keep such a vise grip on everything it's refreshing seeing someone else with the reins.”

“Shut the hell up,” he retorted, but he could not say she was wrong. It made Cain grumble all the more to know that he did not disagree with her opinion of Abel’s attraction, but that he did not want anyone else to feel the same way. “He’s not sexy.”

“Which means you haven’t slept with him yet,” she returned. Her hands brought a cigarette and lighter to her lips. The end crisped against the flame before he snatched it and let it fall beneath his boot. “What the hell’s wrong with you? You can’t be that sexually frustrated.”

“I’m off smoking. Don’t be a bad influence, and you’re ruining your fucking lungs,” he ranted, but Anna’s expression was dubious. She leaned forward to exchange a look with Deimos, but the petite hunter was as unresponsive as ever.

Her retort was interrupted by a tall shadow falling over them. “Smoking is prohibited inside,” Praxis reminded sternly.

Cain scowled and rolled his eyes in another direction. “Lay off, Praxdick. It’s already out.”

“Doesn’t your attitude ever take breaks, Cain?” Praxis returned. “It’s the weekend.”

“My personality is like a star,” he returned casually. “It always shines.”

Praxis decided not to give that a response and made to walk away, but he stopped when Cain asked, “Where’s your pasty pal? The two of you were chummy last night at dinner.”

Praxis peered over his shoulder. “Abel’s business is none of yours.”

He huffed a laugh. “Say something original, would you? It was a simple question: where is he?”

The man’s glare faltered somewhat. “Haven’t seen him all day.”

Without further ado, Cain rocked to his feet and strode past him. “You’re not going—” Praxis began, but Cain patted his face, silencing him.

“This place is boring,” he uttered offhandedly.

Anna blew a raspberry behind him. “Half the squad’s here! You can’t be bored without making the proper effort to—”

“No one asked you, witch head,” he returned without looking. Anna might have thrown something at his head but he turned the corner to the main foyer and jogged up the grand staircase toward the civilian and hunters’ dormitories. Not many people knew that at the very back of the corridor was a storage closet which disguised an entrance to the faculty dorm. Cain suspected it had been built this way in case there was a breach in the human dormitory, but he had been more preoccupied with getting an impatient classmate’s bra off instead of wondering at the initial purpose to the door behind the mops.

The faculty’s corridor was silent as his boots padded over the thick lapis carpet covering the parquet flooring. His tread lightened to nothing as he passed Encke’s room…which for some reason was labeled 'Keeler Ethaniel'—

Cain paused and retraced his steps to read the name again. His head swiveled between Abel’s door down the hall and the one right in front of him. _Ethaniel._ The name and hair made them obvious relatives; he was rather stupefied he had not pieced that together until now. He supposed he hadn’t been drawn to the plaque earlier since there was not suspicion as to why Encke would be in the faculty dorm since both teachers and vampires shared the space…

Cain read the plaque a final time. If Keeler and Abel were related…then that made him a pro as well…right? But Encke had said something about Abel being the last of his bloodline—

“How do you feel?”

Silently rotating on the ball of his foot, Cain turned to press his back against the wall beside the door. Encke’s baritone reverberated through the wall in less decipherable tones before Keeler’s slightly higher voice answered, “Better…thank you…”

“Hush. We’ve talked about this.”

“I know but…but it’s going to get harder.”

There was a pause before Encke asked. “How so?”

Cain was mystified by the concern—the downright fear—in the fierce vampire’s voice, but his reverie was torn back to the name on Keeler’s lips.

“Abel, he…he needs it fresh. I had suspected…but I didn’t want to be right…”

“Shhh, we don’t have to talk about this now. You’re still recovering.”

“This is important,” Keeler defied, the heat of authority entering his voice. “Do you remember what I told you?”

 _Jesus Christ, don’t be vague for the eavesdropper out here,_ Cain cursed inwardly.

“About partners,” Encke returned, and then there was a brief pause before he exclaimed, “You’re not intending to be Abel’s donor.”

“Yes I am, baby,” Keeler replied gently. _Baby,_ Cain grimaced, but the expression quickly dissolved. “He’s defenseless against his abilities, his thirst. He needs someone he can trust to help him through it.”

“You’re not strong enough for it,” Encke argued despite his voice remaining soft. “Kee, I…I could—”

“ _No,_ ” Keeler halted with finality. “You have too many responsibilities, too many hunters and vampires alike to keep in check. And don’t even thinking about co-sharing with me; it’s not healthy for Abel to take from more than one source. He needs a blood partner.”

Encke’s sigh was audible through the wall. “If we’re operating by these old methods…then he’s already chosen his donor.”

Keeler laughed. “But how receptive do you think he’ll be? He’s a hunter, and a headstrong one at that. Actually it makes sense—”

Movement shifted on the other side of the wall, causing Cain to hastily move away from the wall and sprint in three strides to Abel’s door. In the medical ward, he had shoved the skeleton key of the building against Bering’s chest but the man had never accepted it. Cain now slid it into the Victorian mechanisms and lithely pivoted into the room, shutting the door with a whisper of sound.

The iguana croaked from its massive tank. Cain ignored its gaping mouth as if it wanted another nip at his fingers and looked upon the long lump underneath the covers. A white shock of hair splashed across the pillowcase but shadows played along the top half of Abel’s face in the moonlight shining through the window. He was sleeping so deeply his chest barely rose to push the covers up and down.

“Hey,” Cain murmured huskily, kneeling over him and stroking a finger down the bridge of his nose to rouse him. “Have you been asleep all day?”

Abel sniffed but only moved to shift slightly beneath the covers. Cain chuckled despite himself. “It’s not like you need any more beauty sleep, princess.”

Those lashes hesitantly lifted before they swooped up, and Abel’s cranium pressed deeply into his pillow as if to avoid him. “What are you—I told you to stay out of here!”

His voice was husky and broken from sleep, and Cain’s eyes softened at the sound. “As a hunter, it is my responsibility to keep tabs on all persons of interest, and you haven’t been seen all day.”

“You’re a nosy liar,” Abel grumbled, shifting his weight so he could wallop Cain with a pillow. “Let me sleep.”

He’d already rolled away from him, bringing his other pillow under his head and tightly wrapped in his arms. Cain laughed when he easily caught the cushion marked for his head. “That’s not how you fight a hunter, _zolotse_ ,” but his words halted when he realized the pillow was warm, almost hot to the touch.

“Mm!” Abel whined when a large hand grasped the back of his head, but it instantly moved to pat the mattress around him. “What are you doing?”

“Why is your bed so hot?” Cain wondered.

“Huh? Electric sheets,” Abel mumbled with a gesture toward the dial tucked in the corner. “Cain, please go—what are you doing?”

“Move over. I’m sleeping here,” he announced. Without further ado he kicked off his boots and was already turning back the bedclothes to climb aboard. “You sleep in your underwear? I prefer nude, but all right.”

Abel’s eyes widened at the sound of fabric hitting the floor but Cain was sliding in beside him, and a bare leg brushed his, stymying the complaints in his throat. He whipped around, turning his back to Cain while the hunter shivered pleasantly behind him, making the bed quake. “Don’t be like that,” he chided and Abel’s breath caught when a strong arm folded over his waist. “If you like it hot, between me and the sheets you’ll be sleeping in a furnace.”

“Why can’t you just get your own sheets?” Abel complained stiffly, ignoring the gooseflesh rising underneath Cain’s breath.

“They think of hunters as soldiers, like little wooden figurines all carved the same and equally disposable. Therefore we all get the same shitty-grade materials. I’m halfway convinced a ghost is sabotaging my thermostat, and threadbare sheets don’t do a thing. I’m staying here, so stop complaining.”

“Don’t you have duties or something to be doing?” Abel countered after a brief giggle towards the thought of Cain being haunted.

“Hmm,” his chest rumbled, causing Abel’s lips to part. “I’m on watch tonight.”

“Then go watch.”

“I already am in my own way. I’m watching you.”

“You’re trying to sleep,” Abel refuted.

“Trying. My bed partner is rudely keeping me awake.”

 _“Cain,”_ Abel whined, causing the hunter’s eyes to open behind him. “This place is only as safe as it’s least diligent member. You should be doing your job.”

“I am, _sweet heart,_ ” he purred, earning a gasp as he pulled Abel flush against him. He hadn't been wrong: through their t-shirts, Abel could feel the heat of Cain's body. “I’m watching over the most dangerous figure in the building…alone and two garments shy from naked and completely unarmed. I’m the bravest one here.”

Abel sighed, letting his weight fall into his pillow. “You’re so arrogant.”

“I prefer confident.”

“And impulsive and possibly insane.”

“More like creative.” Then he kissed the bend of Abel’s neck. “Sleep, _zolotse,_ if you need it so badly.”

Abel was sure Cain could feel his heart pummeling through his back. He tried to focus on inhaling deeply to steady himself. “What does that mean?”

“You don’t know?” he rumbled, and Abel could feel the curve of his lips when he shivered against Cain’s voice.

“I don’t speak Russian.”

“What languages do you speak, then?”

“Are you avoiding the question?”

“Mine is a genuine inquiry, smarty,” he sassed.

Abel huffed a long sigh and replied, “I’m not fluent because I’ve never been to these places, but…I can read and write French and Italian…Latin…and I've practiced speaking Japanese pretty well.”

“Japanese?” Cain chuckled. “When will you ever need that?”

“I can’t stay at the Academy,” Abel pointed out. “I don’t want to teach. I want to travel. I want to see things.”

“And these things are in Japan?”

“They might be,” Abel finished, but something in his tone was soft and distant…sad.

“What’s with you?” Cain murmured. “Have you been in here all day? Praxdick seemed awfully concerned.”

“Prax… _is_? You mean Praxis? Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” he asked innocently.

“You just…you’re downright mean to people. You’re pushy and arrogant—do you know how to be nice to people?”

“I am nice, Abel,” he returned, suddenly solemn. “To those I like. I can be mean to you if I feel inclined. It’s you who doesn’t know what _mean_ is.”

“I know what it is,” Abel said in a whisper.

“Then enjoy my niceness,” Cain responded, wiggling to get a better position. “Is that Keeler guy your brother or something?”

Abel became rigid in his embrace. “Wh-What? No—How did you—”

“You have the same last name,” Cain intercepted, deadpan. “I’m not that dense.”

Abel scratched at the threading of the sheet beneath him. “He’s my uncle.”

“He seems to have his teeth under control, though,” he iterated and felt Abel flinch. “Why isn’t he under high surveillance? Or did Encke get distracted while guarding him?”

“No, Keeler’s different than me. He’s my half uncle.”

“Really?” Cain uttered, intrigued. “He’s gotta be…what, six years older than you?”

“He looks younger than he is,” Abel replied. He ignored Cain’s _Of course he does_ jab toward vampires’ agelessness. “My grandmother left her husband for the man she loved late in life, but not so late that she couldn’t bear another child. My parents were already adults when Keeler was born.”

“Why would she stay with a geezer so long if she didn’t like him?” Cain wondered.

Abel inhaled and sighed, “She had a duty to perform, to continue the family. After that was finished she moved on, but we keep to the matriarch line. That’s why my uncle…and I…have the same last name….”

He yawned enough for his jaw to pop. Cain’s head lifted off the pillow to scrutinize him. “You know, you sound like you’re drunk or something.”

“Because I am,” Abel yawned again, his eyelids heavy. “I had a migraine earlier.”

Cain put the pieces together. “And Keeler fixed it, so now you’re high from blood?”

“Mm hm,” Abel hummed, not even bothering to ask how Cain knew Keeler had fed him.

“These walls aren’t very soundproof,” Cain informed while he had Abel still awake. “He and Encke were talking.”

“As one does,” Abel sassed quietly.

“About partners who share blood,” he finished. “They mentioned that you had chosen someone to be your partner. That wouldn’t be me by any chance, would it?”

“How could it?” Abel replied sleepily. “You nearly killed me. I can smell the smoke on you.”

“No you can’t,” he scoffed. “I put Anna’s fag out before she could take a breath.”

“Mmh,” Abel hummed as if he was already asleep. “Who’s Anna?”

He snickered, “Never mind that I’ve quit smoking, huh?”

“Oh…thanks.”

Then Cain frowned deeply. “It wasn’t for you.”

But Abel was silent, officially asleep and leaving Cain to his ruminations on whether this was true or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Rolotse" and "rebenok" are Russian for "my dear/precious" and "child"


	5. The Peace

Cain awoke out of habit and stared at the night sky above him. In a few minutes dawn would be rising, but for now galaxies were splashing across the heavens. That was one of the perks of being so withdrawn from city limits, although it made travel a hassle if one wanted to get a descent drink…

A puff of air drew his eyes to his left, where Abel was breathing deeply against his neck. Cain slowly eased himself away from those parted lips, close enough to tickle his throat. Even though they were the closest parts of Abel to him, he was not interested to see if Abel was prone to biting in his sleep.

Careful not to rouse him, Cain rose from the bed so the mattress did not bounce and tucked the comforter close to Abel’s body. He yanked on his boots, and as he was tying them when movement brought his attention back to the bed. Abel was rolling deeper onto his side, pressing his face against Cain’s pillow. He inhaled and sighed.

Cain laughed to himself and before he knew it, he held his jacket over one shoulder as he leaned down over Abel’s hair. “It will be interesting when your mind finally keeps up with your body,” he whispered with a kiss to those down-like tresses. “Don’t be a shut in today, princess.”

“Huh…” Abel murmured, his eyes opening groggily. In the depths of his slumber he thought he’d heard Cain moving around, but the man was already gone; the only trace of him left being his imprint in the sheets and the clean, spicy musk on the pillow…

Without thinking about it, he pivoted the cushion to hug against his torso, letting the waves of amber drift through his senses. _I would have liked you to stay,_ he thought, and then his eyes shot wide. He rolled back onto his own pillow and shoved Cain’s toward the head of the bed.

What had they talked about last night? The memory was fragmented in his head but it couldn’t have been enough to make them chummy after one night. His gaze slid over to his door before it wandered around the room. There weren’t any air ducts Cain could climb in through, and the doorknob mechanisms were uninjured…unless Cain was an expert at lock picking, he had a key to get in here. Abel’s stomach turned as his memory echoed with Cain’s words blackmailing him with other hunters’ intent; how someone else would take on a job if Cain did not, implying Abel was the task.

He rose from the bed, ignoring the rush of blood to his head to ready for the day. He wanted out of this building. He wanted to be somewhere without walls or fences or snarky hunters prowling around him. Quickly, he fed Tantos and knocked on Keeler’s door. The man himself answered with heavy eyelids and messy hair.

“You’re early,” he smiled groggily. “Feel better?”

“Yes, I just wanted to tell you I’ll be outside, so you don’t worry.”

“That’s a good idea,” Keeler yawned, rubbing his eyes before he waved him within. “Eat something first. The medieval village next door is rarely active on Sundays so I doubt you’d find anything open for breakfast, and the nearest metropolis is miles away.”

In truth, Abel wanted to get out _now_ , but he knew his uncle was right. “Erm…what about you? Are you okay?”

Keeler peeked at him from behind the fridge door and smiled. “Yeah, love, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me…although while you’re here we might as well talk about it.”

 _Oh no_ Abel dreaded before a look from Keeler reminded him that they could share thoughts.

“Don’t worry, it’s about a good thing,” Keeler promised, causing Abel to lower his gaze. It lifted again when his uncle added, “It’s about us being blood partners.”

Suddenly the pieces of last night’s memory jarred back into place, but he said nothing, allowing Keeler to set the pace of the conversation.

“We would have to make a schedule, preferably using the weekends to our advantage for the two of us to recover, well…three, since I must drink from Encke in order to bounce back sufficiently. But I needn’t take as much since I can supplement the rest with food, and I think you will be able to manage with food throughout the week. Vampires of our kind lived happily for millennia through the alliance of blood partners. If you’re uncomfortable, though, I can scavenge through the forbidden library for the folklore about it.”

Abel blinked. An odd greenhouse was presented before him: a plethora of windows of possibility being presented. “Forbidden library?”

Keeler grinned as he set down a bowl of fruit and worked on poaching an egg for a bowl of porridge. “During the war and the aftermath, hunters tried to burn all of our writings, but a some of them worked with us to preserve them. There was more than our culture in the books, but serious medical knowledge that the hunters could use to their advantage but also for the betterment of the vampires who survived. A peace requires active participation from two parties, and if one of those parties is ill, those books were a saving grace for the treaty. However most of the hunters did not prove themselves to be as receptive toward such knowledge and it’s had to be kept in the secret archives beneath this building. Only I, Commander Cook, and now you know about it.”

Abel’s brows lifted. “Encke doesn’t?”

Keeler shrugged. “He hasn’t any interest in exploring regular libraries; I see no need to reveal a hidden one to him, and everything regarding my health he already knows about. You, however, could make great use of it.”

Abel swallowed and barreled onward, “Does the folklore talk about…vampires choosing their donors?”

Keeler had set the bowl of porridge on the table and was setting the egg over the oats when his gaze peeked up. “It does. Why?”

How could Abel tell him the walls had ears? He shrugged and shook his head. “I just…remember hearing something about it…I think Cain’s under the impression there’s a meaning behind me biting him.”

Keeler straightened and tucked his hair behind an ear. “There could be, or there might not be. If a vampire must feed, he or she will take it where it is available, but historically our kind usually had the means for controlled feeding. We were the aristocrats, the kings and gods over regular vampires and men. Yes, we chose whom to feed from, but I think you should research this yourself. You will find more than I could ever manage to explain. Do you have a phone?”

Abel had broken through to the yolk of his egg and was mixing the molten gold with the oats and herbs of his porridge when he glanced up. “No?”

Keeler laughed, more awake now. “Somehow, I figured. I meant to give this to you sooner, but now’s as good a time as any. It still has the glossy plastic on it.”

Abel picked up the thin, metallic block set on the table and pinched the corner of the sheet covering the screen before Keeler nodded for him to peel it off. Being an employee in astrophysics and robotics, Abel knew how a mobile worked in theory but not in practice. His eyes widened when a luminous apple appeared on the onyx screen.

“It’s a touch screen, so you can navigate through it like the surface of your desk,” Keeler explained. Breakfast forgotten, they sat together with the new phone and explored its contents. “It would be better if you didn’t show this to anyone, only because yours is a private system. It’s common knowledge that the school operates in a fully immersive learning environment, but the students all have technology to escape it. The difference between their phones and yours is that the administration, courtesy of our lab, could hack their devices if need be. Yours is locked and secure. Use it wisely and obviously don’t give it or loan it to anyone. Mine and Encke’s numbers are already programmed into the contact list.”

Abel smiled. “Thank you.”

Keeler returned the sentiment and rubbed between his shoulder blades. “You’re welcome. Where are you going today?”

He shrugged. “Just out. I wanted out of the building.”

Keeler guffawed, enough for Encke to be heard rising in the bedroom. “I understand completely. As lovely as the architecture of this place is, it has the mood of a mausoleum at times. Just check in with me from time to time and be back for dinner. The grocers in town finally fulfilled my request for exotic peppers and I’m excited to try some recipes. Prepare your pallet for spicy tonight.”

Encke appeared in a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His biceps bulged as he scratched his shortly trimmed Mohawk. Abel initially sent him a smile in greeting, but his face heated and he had to avert his eyes. He felt as if he were intruding again upon something private, in which he wasn’t allowed. And then he realized: other than with art, he had never seen a naked man.

Abel suddenly felt how different he was compared to this place, with its history and knowledge, its experienced student body and faculty, and he wanted out more than ever. “Thanks again. I won’t go far. Good morning, Encke,” he said on his way out. He tried not to notice the two puncture wounds in the man’s neck but felt his cheeks grow hot and rushed out the door.

Encke watched him go with a slight frown and turned to Keeler. “Did I scare him off?”

Keeler, having observed his nephew’s behavior as well, simply chuckled. “You can’t act surprised when you take up the entire doorframe.”

He picked up Abel’s uneaten breakfast and meant to throw it away, but he reverted his steps to the sink and spooned some into his mouth while gazing out of the circular window. He felt Encke behind him before strong arms slid around him, squeezing tightly, as he knew Keeler liked. “He’s incredibly innocent for his age, for what he is,” Encke murmured huskily, breathing in the scent of Keeler’s hair. “Doesn’t that worry you?”

“Yes,” he admitted, spooning another bite into his mouth. “But I can’t deny I like someone else fawning over my mate and knowing you’re mine.”

Encke laughed, a dimple appearing in his cheek. “Be serious. As much as we can pretend otherwise, you chose me those years ago. I’m afraid for him and what his relationship with the hunter could turn into.”

“I know,” Keeler sighed, the original playful mirth evaporating from his features. “It’s something he needs to figure out on his own, though. All we can do is provide damage control. If Abel’s chosen him, even without himself consciously knowing it, it’s too late to separate them now. You would know,” he said as he turned his head to meet Encke’s gaze, “how after a progenitor chooses, it's nigh impossible to avoid them.”

The swarthy vampire’s full lips curved in a closed smile while he hummed deep in his chest. Those soft lips planted a kiss on Keeler’s temple. “Avoid? I felt like I was chasing you the entire time.”

Keeler giggled as a drop of yolk was wiped from his lip. “Hardly. You avoided me for seven months after we met.”

“Because I could barely look at you without losing my dignity as dean over the hunters and vampires,” he purred, and leaned his pelvis inward so his growing erection pressed against Keeler’s ass.

“Worse things have happened,” Keeler finished and set the bowl down to turn fully in Encke’s arms and meet his kiss.

Abel strode through the foyer with his hands in his jacket pockets. He lifted one to give a wave toward the human receptionists at their crescent shaped desk on his way out. It was quite nice wearing his own clothes again. Raiment was one of the few methods of self-expression his parents allowed; along with the light green highlights to his fringe. His jacket was a bleached white leather ensemble with a forest green long-sleeve underneath. Faded, light blue jeans border-lining grey adorned his legs over matching green duck boots. He wasn’t entirely sure why they were called duck boots since all of the online models seemed more concerned with frolicking in the snow as opposed to hunting, but they were comfortable and kept his feet dry.

The stone paths were overgrown with moss or covered with needles and a variety of ochre leaves, but overhead many of the trees were still robustly green despite the chill in the air. Abel made a mental note to bring a scarf next time he ventured outside but made do with zipping his jacket and propping the collar against his neck.

The preserved town was closer than he anticipated, but he initially took it for an abandoned medieval city as opposed to a functioning hub for tourism. Empty tables under awnings revealed where farmers’ markets might happen in the spring and summer but for now, Abel craned his head to take in the gothic architecture and the diamond panes of glass all around him. He fell off a sidewalk because he was looking everywhere but his feet, but he regained his balance and ducked his head in case anyone was looking out at him.

It was not long before his stomach blamed him for not taking more than two bites of his breakfast, but he walked on, smiling to himself when he discovered a garden encaged by a wrought iron fence. It was practically overgrown by willows and piles of deciduous leaves, but Abel recognized the dormant wisteria vines around the fence and entwining their way up some of the trees. There were also long spears of leaves that could only be irises and lilies awaiting the spring for this place burst with color and fragrance.

Abel crouched over the flowerbeds and wondered if anyone took care of them or if the garden was left in winter’s hands until the spring required tending. _Maybe I should get a bonsai tree,_ he contemplated while flicking a dry leaf off of a rock. His room was so barren except for Tantos; a bit of color would be nice and the blossoms would be something to look forward to—

 _Maybe you should get off my bed_ another voice echoed inside his head.

Abel stumbled away from the dormant flowers, clutching his chest where he felt as if his heart was trying to leap out from his ribs. _What? Are you…Vampires actually sleep in the ground?_ he exclaimed.

 _If we feel so inclined,_ the voice returned. It was deep, but unmistakably female. _The earth is home, Ethaniel._

Abel’s eyes darted over the leaves and what few flowers were holding out against the late autumn climate. _How do you know me?_

_Your power resonates through the very ground to me, and your family survived the longest against the mortal tyrants. It could only be you whom stands above me, but even without this deduction, there is a unique…song in you. It is ancient yet new. I knew a relative of yours long ago, and she held the same resonance._

_Why are you in the ground?_ he wondered pointedly, not enjoying conversing with a faceless entity.

 _Because the sun is up,_ she answered curtly.

_But how? The soil looks unmarked…unless—how long have you been down there?_

Even in his mind, the woman’s laugh was throaty. _You_ are _a young one. We nocturnal vampires have our tricks, and I rise with the moon as most of us do. Would you care to wait long enough to meet me properly?_

Part of Abel absolutely did not care to meet someone in the dark, but another part of him was undeniably curious. _I can’t. I’m expected back._

_This does not surprise me, special as you are. It’s a wonder you’re not kept under lock and key._

_I’m not a monster to be caged,_ he snapped involuntarily, and then amended, _Not anymore._

There was a long pause before she spoke again, _Perhaps you have your tricks too. Then again, I would be disappointed if you didn’t. Another time, then, Ethaniel._

Abel was not too sure of that as he strode out of the garden, but he kept this to himself. Deeper in the town there was some activity, and he managed to find a street vendor roasting nuts in brown sugar. The candy coating cracked pleasantly between Abel’s teeth and his stomach thanked him. A woman selling flowers caught his eye and he exchanged coin for a blue wreath of holly and forget-me-not flowers. It reminded him of the Olympic olive branches awarded in Greece by the way it rest on his ears and cradled the back of his skull. The sharp points of the holly stabbed his ears but it was not enough to be unbearable.

However as the temperature dropped throughout the day, he texted Keeler he was on his way back and shuddered when he jogged up the academy steps to be enveloped in heat. Daylight savings allowed for vampire receptionist to be on shift, but they smiled at him with his passing, but all three of them startled at the commotion happening beyond in the atrium. The man and woman sighed as they returned to their work, but Abel forewent the stairwell to the dormitories to inspect what was happening.

He was not surprised to see the hunters brawling in the atrium like a coliseum. Nudging his way through the crowds, vampires parted willingly for him while humans were riveted to the spectacle. He found his way upstairs to the balconies looking down, and exhaled heavily at the sight of none other than Cain laughing as he heaved a man twice his size over his shoulder. They landed together on the marble floor, Cain’s elbow pinned against the larger man’s throat.

Abel peeked around the atrium and its lack of faculty intervention. Apparently this had either become a regular ordeal or seeing the hunters knock each other down a peg supported rapport among the student body. Cain stood from his victory and raked a hand through his hair that defied gravity. His sweat made it stay combed back, and warmth flushed through Abel’s chest.

Peering through the huddle of people, Abel saw the entryway of a corridor that circled back to the dorms on the other side of the atrium. He made his way toward it, circling around the fight below. Apparently Cain being the victory meant he had to fight again, but the hunter hardly seemed nonplussed by this.

“Do you like it rough or gentle?” he said loudly enough for his audience to hear. Abel rolled his eyes and urged himself forward with renewed force.

But his gaze wandered downward to observe as he travelled. Cain did not fight, he danced. His knees were like rubber bouncing his form up, down, and away from his attacker’s jabs. His feet rocked easily from heel to toe or balanced on the balls of his feet so he practically pirouetted, revolving around his opponent to attack from behind.

Abel’s feet had stopped moving, transfixed with everyone else on the spectacle. His breath halted in his throat when Cain went from blocking punches to catching one and somehow using its momentum to swing his own body in a horizontal spiral and wrap his legs around his opponent’s neck. His arc of movement never ceased, and the two of them swayed to the ground, where Cain rolled to his feet as if he had never been locked to him, and proceeded to outright dance as if a song was playing. He even bowed to his audience.

Abel smirked, admitting to himself that for all Cain’s hubris, the man had an attractive flair. His long legs weren’t hard on the eyes either.

Shaking his head, he tried to wipe away his smile as the crowd parted for him and he disappeared to his room for a shower and dinner.

Cain’s gaze roamed to his squad, where Anna was accepting her winnings from bets and Deimos was watching tranquilly. Upon meeting his light blue eyes, Deimos looked upward, inducing Cain to follow. It was easy to see what he was referring to when the vampires were moving around it like something revered or even feared. A pale blond head of hair disappeared from the balcony’s view, and Cain grinned.

“Nope, I’m done for the night,” he waved away those egging him for another fight.

“Aw, come on, Cain!” Anna complained, her hands full of winnings. He flicked her off with a smile and grabbed his jacket from Deimos on his way out of the atrium. He was half-inclined to go straight to Abel’s room for a shower but the faculty dormitory was at the top of the stairs and his shower was closer. Cinching the towel around his hips afterward, he leaned over the counter to check his stitches in the mirror. He grimaced at the tears in a few of them from fighting. Marching his way back down to the medical unit, a nurse gave him a stern look at the state of his neck and ushered him through for a doctor to fix him up.

“You won’t have much of a carotid artery if you keep this up,” the man uttered with needle in hand. Cain bit back a retort as the metal dragged through his flesh and hot blood dripped over his clavicle. “I mean it. Give this at least four weeks to heal. Surely the others can handle whatever goes bump in the night.”

Cain sneered at the thought of his squad out in the field without him. Anna and her partner were formidable enough, Deimos and that twat Phobos made a surprisingly efficient team, but without someone giving firm direction, they’d be spend the time arguing while the vampires ate them.

“There now…” the surgeon finished while cleaning him off with alcohol wipes. A flash of white entered Cain’s vision and he reared back.

“Woah, not that fucking thing again.”

The man held the gauzy collar open and ready as he rebuked, “This _fucking_ thing will stifle the scent of your blood. We don’t need to rile the vampires unnecessarily, not to mention it will keep your wound clean and absorb any leaks.”

“Leaks?” Cain repeated haughtily. “What the hell am I here for if there are leaks?”

“They won’t be from my doing,” the man finished and swooped in to fasten the collar in place. “All you need to worry about is taking a little holiday, and you’ll be right as rain.”

Cain grimaced. “I hate rain.”

“Unhappy is the man who cannot appreciate the simplistic life.” The surgeon patted his shoulder and turned to address a different patient.

Cain shrugged the shoulder he had touched and took the least populated route upstairs. He gave any curious passersby a glare sharp enough to turn their gaze in another direction until he lithely slipped inside the supply closet. Peeking around the corner of the secret door, the corridor was vacant. Cain strode to Abel’s door and twisted the key to reveal the soft indigo light from the beast’s aquarium. The bed and bathroom, however, were empty.

“Where’s your docile twin?” Cain cooed through the glass. The iguana’s jaw opened but no sound came out, like silent laughter. The long tail thwacked the glass, causing him to lurch backwards. “Ah—jeez. Now that I think about it, neither one of you is tame.”

He flopped on the bed and searched for the dial that heated the bed. He frowned at how Abel kept it on the highest setting, but nestled in as warmth began to seep through his backside. His hands rested behind his head as he looked around the bare room. Admittedly, the infernal iguana added personality to the place, but otherwise the only notion that someone lived in here was the electric mattress cover.

Standing, Cain properly kicked off his boots before wandering the space. Of all the times he had been here, he had not actually done more than tease Abel and let the lizard bite him, but now he perused the desk and dresser only to feel his brow furrow deeper. Abel had a measly set of three uniforms in one drawer while the rest of his clothes easily fit in three other drawers. This did not fill half of the wall-to-wall dresser. Cain thought _he_ had a Spartan wardrobe, but this…

His eyes alighted on the shelf of books. His fingertips roamed over the glossy spines of massive astronomy and art books but landed on one whose spine was clearly creased in multiple places from use. The upper corner of Cain’s lip curled somewhat at the title: _Mathematics in Art._ On the cover was the Vitruvian man and a shell cut in half with a spiral and other numerical things drawn over them. Cain let the book fall open wherever the creases were most flexible, and gazed upon a familiar image of a young man and woman embracing.

“Hmm…well I’ll be damned,” he said, admiring Eros and Psyche cast in the statue Abel had drawn with incredible likeness. Cain returned to the desk to find the very notebook and page in which it rested, but noticed a distinct difference: more line work was given to Eros in intense detail as opposed to Psyche, including all of his corresponding equations. Cain smirked, “All right, then.”

The door opened and he set the notebook and tome on the desk to gaze at Abel…and frown. “Are you sweating?”

The blonde exhaled raggedly, “Peppers,” and did not even look at him as he rushed to the bathroom to dip his face under the faucet.

Cain leaned against the doorjamb. “Milk works better…wait, why were you eating peppers?”

“We had milk. It wasn’t enough,” Abel whined, slumping over the counter and just letting water run over his tongue. “Keeler likes cooking and wanted to try peppers.”

Cain looked to the ceiling as if it might hold an explanation. “One vampire’s hobby is cooking while yours is masturbating to mythology. The two of you are poor representations of vampires.”

Abel whirled around so quickly he sprayed Cain with water. “I what? What are you—have you been going through my things?”

The hunter didn’t even move and continued to gaze at him with a hand resting on his hip. “Not many things to speak of. It’s like you have no personality.”

His brows reached for his hairline when Abel breezed past him; he had enough intent to push Cain out of the way and yet he managed to slide through the small space left in the doorframe. Abel took one look at the state of his desk and rotated to face him. “You can’t use my notes for class! Either show up once in a while or fail on your own!”

For a moment, Cain stared blankly at him before he guffawed enough to double over. A dull pain filled his neck from the strain on his sutures, so he wiped his eyes and stood erect. “Oh, sweet heart, I have no fucks to give for that class, and I certainly wasn’t looking through your notes for help. It’s hard to mistake who you have a hard-on for, though. I guess it fits if he’s the god of attraction and all that.”

Abel’s browed lowered. “You know what Eros is the god of?”

Cain’s expression mirrored his. “Just because I don’t waste my time in class doesn’t mean I don’t read—why does everyone think I’m illiterate?”

Suddenly a smile bloomed on Abel’s face. “Because you act like a barbarian.”

Cain’s scoffed, “I can’t be bothered with manners.”

His features opened at the sound of a giggle bubbling from Abel’s throat. The blonde wiped his face of sweat as he replied, “That’s a shame. They would take you far.”

Cain’s eyes narrowed in what he thought was sultriness. “How far?”

Abel’s perked up with suspicion. “The door.”

He pouted, taken aback. “Not much of an incentive. Are you sleeping nude this time or what?”

Abel stared at him, lips parted in blatant disapproval. “No! You’re not—” Then he locked onto the collar around Cain’s neck. “Were you attacked?”

He snorted, “I wouldn’t let myself get caught like that again. My stitches tore. Which reminds me, did you like the show?”

His smile was cocky against Abel’s glare. “I have no sympathy for you if you get into fights on your own.”

“They weren’t fights, just friendly competition,” Cain responded coolly as he followed Abel to the desk. He picked up the book and turned to head toward the shelf only to find a solid wall of man blocking him. “Same as friendly bed sport.”

Abel’s eyes leveled on Cain’s chest as he comprehended his words. After a long moment, he tilted his chin to meet the hunter’s gaze with an expression far from what Cain was expecting. “You just sleep with anyone?”

His smirk faltered. “Not _anyone._ I do have standards.”

“Get out.”

Cain’s head lolled with the roll of his eyes. “Oh come on, Miss Stingy—”

“ _Get out,_ Abel growled, catching the former by surprise. “You blackmail me with rape and assault threats. You constantly enter without permission, and now you treat me like some sort of toy. Go freeze in your own bed alone or find someone else to warm it for you.”

Even as he spoke, though, he knew Cain was unlikely to leave without physical insistence, and Abel wasn’t strong enough… _Encke._

“Really? You’re slut shaming me when I’ve done nothing but chase you and act kindly after you tore my throat out—”

The door swung open to reveal the stone features of both Encke and Keeler, until the former’s broke into a soft grin. “Well, well. I do believe I made you a promise, Cain.”

He blinked, stunned as the cogs of his mind jarringly assessed his situation. “Wait, wait, _I’m_ the antagonist here?”

Keeler frowned as if Cain’s stupidity baffled him. “You _are_ the one in a place you do not belong.”

Cain smirked but it was more of a mixture between anxiety and resilient esteem. “I keep this place running—I’m the best hunter within a hundred miles!”

“You’re a skilled murderer,” Encke revised. “But you don’t understand peace or how to maintain it. And how fitting: you’ve gotten yourself a new collar.”

If Cain was the type, he would have blanched, but as he was, he legs braced for a fight while fire filled his eyes. “I’m not some mongrel to be put down. I’m a human being and parasites like you will respect that.”

“I have no intent on killing you,” Encke assured, “but you can return to the chains you were found in.”

Despite his lack of fangs, he bared his teeth. “I’m not going back there. Not a by a single step.”

“The mistake you keep making, Cain,” Encke explained, “is that you look around you like everyone owes you something or is planning on stealing from you. You don’t grasp that you control your fate. Your behavior causes others’ actions, not vice versa.”

Cain took a step forward, accepting the challenge. “You mean to tell me that the nocturnal eyes following me through the halls have no interest in tasting me? That all of them are clean from murder or crave blood specifically from bags instead of from the source? Even this skinny twat wanted a bite out of me!”

Abel stepped back as if he had been physically struck, but Cain continued, “At least he admitted his nature and did it! I can’t stand liars, verbal or otherwise.”

“Please get out,” Abel murmured. Cain’s eyes jerked in his direction, causing Abel to look away. “Just go.”

“You act like a little bitch, you know that?”

“ _Enough,_ ” Keeler warned darkly.

“Don’t insult my intelligence when you’re the little cunt everyone’s after. Sure, the vampires look at me like a meal but hunters and blood suckers alike lick their lips when you pass by.”

“Stop,” Abel whispered, fidgeting with his hair as if the fringe could be pulled down lower over his eyes.

“Jesus christ, don’t you understand how I’ve been trying to help you? Those weren’t threats, they were actual facts you need to get through that soft head—”

“I said GET OUT!” Abel screamed, his fangs sliding out. “WHAT MAKES YOU BELIEVE I’M NOT A PERSON WITH FEELINGS AND HONEST NEEDS? IF I WANTED THIS ABUSE I WOULD’VE STAYED HOME! YOU’RE NOT MY FATHER—NO ONE HAS THE RIGHT TO TALK TO ME LIKE THIS ANYMORE! IF YOU’RE SO AFRAID OF LIVING IN CHAINS THEN TRY LIVING IN A METAL BOX YOUR ENTIRE LIFE!”

His fangs bit deep into his lip with the last syllable, and he covered his face in embarrassment and shame. But Cain was not looking at his teeth. Abel’s shoulders heaved with his sobs, his voice broke in his anguish, and he looked so small in Keeler’s arms when the man encompassed him like a shield.

“Get him out of here,” Keeler murmured, his velvet tone spurring Encke into action. The vampire moved faster than Cain could see, and the floor crashed against his face before he could breathe. With his impenetrable strength, Encke folded Cain’s arms behind his spine and lifted him like that to his feet. Cain thought his shoulders would dislocate from the contortion, but something shiny glinted in his vision.

“Who gave you this?” Encke grated, holding the skeleton key aloft.

Cain gritted his teeth but said quietly. “Wolves in the flock.”

He was shoved out of the room and handled like some sort of rag doll. Once he tried twisted his grip free, only to feel the twang of a metacarpal breaking in his hand. “Do you understand, yet?” Encke murmured behind him, low enough for Cain’s ears alone. Students ventured glances on their way to night classes, but only for a second.

“Depends, is everyone secretly as strong and fast as you?” Cain spat. “This whole place is a fucking lie.”

“And you’re the only one too slow to know this,” Encke purred. Cain flinched from the sensation of lips brushing his ear. “Don’t pretend like everyone is lying to you when you’re too dense to listen. Only the progenitors could control the vampires, and that’s why the hunters eliminated them, yes?

“Because they feared the pros would lead an uprising in a second war,” Cain grated.

“You’re still not listening,” Encke rebuked, somehow managing to shove him down a narrow flight of stairs while keeping a rigid hold on him. “The progenitors helped them control the vampires…because the hunters couldn’t do it themselves.”

Cain’s breath halted in his throat the same time he was thrust inside a reinforced solitary confinement cell. The walls were padded like some sort of fabled asylum cage and there were no visible weak points for him to escape.

“You and your hunter pups aren’t keeping the peace,” Encke finished. Inside his fist was the skeleton key, now clenched into an unusable knot of silver. “We vampires are.”

The door slammed heavily, as only metal could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tricky treat to kick-start your Halloween week! In case the next treat doesn't come before Saturday...well that's a perfect incentive to have a safe holiday, isn't it? You know what makes a successful holiday--LIVING TO THE NEXT ONE! Or, you know, living 'til the next chapter :) 
> 
> This spooky PSA message brought to you by yours truly <3


	6. Breach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DECK THE HALLS WITH LOTS OF UPDATES, FA LA LA LA LA, LALALALA. TIS THE SEASON WITH LACK OF SANITY. FA LA LA LA LA, LALALALA. Can you tell I'm done with finals?

Cain had reached a new low.

He huddled over the threads of his sheets, or what used to be his sheets. He had pulled, stretched, scrunched, and even undone the strands to rework the thread count into a wide kaleidoscope design. Not like they did much by way of warmth anyhow.

He let out a bark of triumph when he managed to tie the strings holding it all together and held it up for inspection. It was as if someone had taken a snowflake and blown it up for size, which he promptly threw to the corner of his cell. He let his weight fall onto the creaky springs of the cot but instantly regretted it as corners of his pelvis hit the metal frames beneath and a couple springs called it quits to spear his ass.

No windows, stiffly padded walls, a bed so wrecked he slept on the floor, and a door through which only his meals and dishes passed through: this was his reality. How long he had been here, he could not say, but his fully healed stitches made him suspect he had outdone the doctor’s prescribed four weeks. The only convenient aspect was that the food was surprisingly good and the floor was padded as well, making the mattress not much of a loss.

The telltale grinding of a key and creak of hinges brought his attention to the door, where a tray of food was being pushed through the trapdoor. Cain’s stomach gurgled desperately. Good though the food was, it did not come regularly, and that blasted cat door they shoved it through was like a winking eye whenever it wasn’t locked shut.

But he was oddly not at a loss for distractions. He had kept every piece of silverware they gave him until they noticed there weren’t any spoons to wash. The result was a diorama made from the threads of one of the pillowcases; it might have sufficed as a wind chime if there was airflow in here.

Cain was also more physically fit than he had probably ever been as far as flexibility and lack of body fat went. With nothing else to do, when all else failed, he challenged his body to do whatever it had to in order to get rid of the well of restless energy inside him. Cain could stand on his head until he saw spots and then do eleven perfect pirouettes without stopping. His legs could split like scissors or chopsticks and he could pace the room on his hands if he felt inclined.

For now, though, he threw the emptied bowl and plastic spoon back toward the door and steadily thunked his head against the bed frame. “I’m. Going. In. Sane.”

*******

Abel reluctantly slid his fangs out of Keeler’s elbow with Encke’s fist in his hair. There was sharp pain throughout his scalp but it was necessary to bring him out of his bloodlust. Keeler had already insisted that he could push Abel away with his mind, but Encke would have none of it and insisted on being there during Abel’s feedings. He would drink from a bag until it was time to make Abel disengage, and then would carefully bring Keeler to his throat to replenish him.

Abel licked his lips as Encke did so now. He could hear the puncture of his uncle’s fangs through the supple, dark flesh of Encke’s neck, and tried to think he didn’t hear the guttural rumble in the man’s throat as he was fed upon.

“Um…why do you let him bite you there?” he asked, both curious and wanting a method of distraction. Abel elaborated, “You don’t heal as quickly. Wouldn’t, uh, people notice the scar?”

Encke smiled, already groggy from how much Keeler was taking. His voice was husky as Keeler drank from him. “My uniform collars are high enough to cover the bites.”

Abel’s chin ducked close to his chest, looking anywhere but at the two of them. For some reason he had the impression Encke liked having Keeler’s bite days after Keeler fed from him, and that the high collars of his uniform were purely circumstantial.

Keeler gasped and Encke caught his shoulders, gently pushing him away to rest among the pillows of their bed. His white lashes dusted over his eyes heavily as he licked red from his lips and peeked at Abel with a smile. “Feel all right, love?”

Abel’s head nodded while the room swayed. He felt Encke’s arms around him, lifting him as if from a dream he was having difficulty waking up from. “Off to bed now,” the smooth baritone narrated.

Abel liked being carried by Encke. Some part of him was still unnerved by it but he had also grown accustomed to it, anticipated it. The first time he had left Keeler’s room after feeding, his uncle had nodded with a wave as Encke carried him out of the room. Abel had felt like he was borrowing someone too important for such a mundane task as returning him to his room in the midst of his inebriety. But then Abel had come to appreciate the refreshing lavender in Encke’s shirts, how his torso was surprisingly as tender as it was firm of muscle. Abel felt small in his arms, fragile but protected, and he was more grateful to Keeler than he could say that he had found someone like Encke.

Heavy softness and warmth enveloped Abel all too soon and he felt his plush comforter tucked around him. “Thanks, Encke,” he mumbled, already descending into sleep.

A large hand ruffled his hair. “I didn’t pull too hard, did I?”

His eyes were closed but he replied, “It’s fine. I know you have to.”

“You’ll learn,” Encke promised. “Control will be yours in time.”

“Homm,” Abel sighed as his door and its new lock shut. _Hope_ is what he’d meant to say. Encke, for all his hard and even gruff exterior, was full of hope. Protective, strong, and optimistic…that was a nice partner to have…

Abel next opened his eyes late Sunday morning to find several notes pushed under his door. Before he was given the cell phone, Praxis and Ethos had wanted a way to contact him to make plans; each student had a mailbox for incoming letters or packages but Abel had given his friends the mailbox number and never thought it necessary to trade it for his mobile number. Either way, the mailbox was shared with Keeler, who often went ahead and slid Abel’s notes under the door.

 _Sunday brunch?_ read Praxis’s notecard. There was a doodle of what looked like a giraffe beneath the letter, clearly an addition from Ethos. The blonde himself had provided a separate invitation for a study session after dinner.

A matte grey card held a unique scrawl that was signed by Deimos: _If you wanted to eat on our side of the cafeteria, we would make sure no one noticed._

Abel had been so busy analyzing the neat blend of cursive and print script that the meaning behind it struck like a blow. What was Deimos offering? And who was ‘we’? Did he mean that Abel could sit on the vampire side without human or hunter eyes watching, or that he could drink blood without anyone seeing? And how would the vampires even accomplish this? He set the card on the bottom of the stack, intending to ignore Deimos’ offering as well as how he knew what Abel’s mailbox number was.

He met Praxis and Ethos in the lobby and was pleasantly surprised when Praxis said he knew a tiny place that served on Sundays. “Best sausage within a hundred miles,” he promised.

Ethos was bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement, rubbing his knit gloves together. “It’s been a while since I went into town! Is the street food still there? I remember there was this shop that…”

Praxis, who had been holding the door for them, adjusted Ethos’s earmuffs and tucked the tail of his scarf under the wrap when his roommate passed by. “You were coming undone,” he explained, letting the door swing closed and taking the lead on the trail.

Abel smiled, intending to laugh at Ethos’s careless anticipation, when it struck him that Ethos’s blush was not caused by the cold. He tucked his nose into the puffy folds of his scarf, failing to hide the rosy hue as his lashes swooped up to catch peeks at his roommate.

The way Praxis continued the conversation made Abel suspect he was oblivious to Ethos’s attraction. “You mean the veterinary pet shop?” he guessed as if he were inside Ethos’s mind. He prattled on about Fluffy Fridays which allowed anyone to come in to mingle with the cats and dogs for stress relief, but Abel wondered if he was oblivious since he was tall. Praxis’s point of view was significantly higher than both of the blondes, and he might have simply failed to look down often enough to notice how his roommate felt. Abel kept silent, though, not wanting to make Ethos more anxious than he already was.

When they passed the garden Abel had sat in the last time he came into town, he peeked over the wrought iron fence to the flowerbeds where the vampire woman slept. The beds were now barren except for the spines of plants, made dormant for the winter, but the soil was as unmarked as ever. Abel looked away and trotted to catch up with Praxis’s long stride. When the hunter’s pace began to slow and halted in front of a tall, stone exterior, Abel peered up at the quiet residence. “Are you sure the restaurant’s open?”

Praxis opened the door, causing a bell to twitter and the luscious smells of meat and spices to burst free. Heat melted the chill from their cheeks as they stepped inside a surprisingly well lit room despite the dark façade. Two large fireplaces illuminated the space from either side, casting warm light across the long tables and beams stretched across the vaulted ceiling.

“What would you like to drink?” Praxis glanced back as he split the field of people standing around the thick wooded bar on the far left of the room.

“Cider!” Ethos called over the chatter.

Abel was preoccupied with rocking on his feet and observing the commotion. It was completely unlike the empty town he had ventured through a few weeks previously—

A large hand warmed through the down of his coat, tearing his attention back up to Praxis. “Are you thirsty? What do you want?”

Abel blinked, his mind stuck between the warmth of his touch and wondering what sort of things a tavern offered by way of beverages. “Um, cider,” he answered mechanically, recalling Ethos’s order.

Praxis nodded once and turned back to the bartender. Ethos leaned toward Abel to be heard, “Have you been to a place like this before?”

Abel smiled at the way Ethos’s wide eyes glimmered happily. “No! But I’d already like to be back!”

Ethos laughed and pointed over people’s heads toward the line of taps standing sentinel over the bar. “Bottles are good, but usually taps taste better—umf!”

Both he and Abel barreled into Praxis when the group behind them stumbled forward. Abel felt the familiar warmth return, this time around his shoulders. Praxis rotated to push his other arm between Abel and Ethos, carefully shoving the group in the other direction. “Are you all right?” he asked calmly.

Ethos nodded while he adjusted his scarf. Abel looked down to better pay attention to people’s feet and where the currents of movement were happening, but a squeeze on his shoulder brought his attention up to meet Praxis’s concerned gaze. “You okay? It’s not pleasant being squished between drunks and a giant.”

Abel’s eyes squinted with his grin. “I’m fine. You’re tall but it works in our favor.”

Praxis’s smile was small but it reached his eyes before his attention turned to their drinks being set on the bar. Holding all three, he nodded at Ethos, “Choose a spot.”

Ethos took a step and reached back for Abel’s hand to not lose him. Abel in turn grasped the pocket of Praxis’s coat and together they made it to a table of similar wood and heft as the bar. It was roughly carved but varnished to smoothness. Out of nowhere, a bartender appeared and swept up the old glasses and replaced them with coasters while Abel sat with Ethos on one side with Praxis sitting opposite them. He peered, fascinated, at the tiny bubbles dancing to the foamy surface of his golden beverage before he took a sip and erupted in coughs.

The roommates laughed as he recovered, rubbing the carbonation from his nose. “Don’t drink much?” Praxis wondered.

“Cider’s supposed to be mild…” Ethos apologized. “We should have warned—”

Abel waved his words away. “It’s,” cough, “the bubbles. It’s good. Tastes like apples.”

“You haven’t had regular cider?” Praxis wondered. “They have hot or mulled cider if you want.”

“Maybe later,” Abel admitted after a more successful sip. “The cold hurts my teeth.”

Praxis frowned. “Then don’t drink it. I’ll get you a hot one.”

Before Abel could assure him that cold was fine, the hunter was up and gone. Abel hoped the heat of the room would pass as an excuse for the sudden blush on his cheeks. Meanwhile, Ethos was already a third into his drink. He shook his head. “He’s so over protective, but I like that about him. Some roommates only care enough to keep their side of the room clean, others not even that.”

Abel lifted his scarf to warm his ears as he said, “I feel wrong for making him buy another drink. I would have paid for it.” He left out the detail of it being his fangs that did not take kindly to the cold.

It was Ethos’s turn to wave off the topic. “Let him do as he wants. Hunters are stubborn. I guess it’s a necessary quality for their occupation.”

Abel’s brows lifted and then his head tipped to the side, acquiescing his point. His thoughts swerved to a different hunter with blue streaks in his fringe, but quickly returned to the bubbly drink beneath him. Abel took several large gulps, welcoming the brain freeze to stymy the path of his thoughts. But then he sneezed and all the carbonation jarred to a halt in his sinuses.

“Don’t force yourself,” Praxis laughed, setting down a tall mug with a similarly frothy top, but which smelled of vanilla, apples, and cinnamon. Without thinking, Abel gripped the ceramic and sighed as his hands thawed. He swiped a finger through the foam, brushing the scalding heat underneath but tasted sweetness on his tongue.

“It’s supposed to snow tonight,” Praxis was saying when Abel emerged from his vanilla spice haze.

“Snow!” Ethos piped jovially, and then contradicted, “It doesn’t smell like snow outside.”

“I said tonight,” Praxis chuckled. “Don’t be impatient.”

“Delayed gratification is overrated,” Ethos pouted.

Abel guffawed. “You sound like—” He stopped.

Praxis and Ethos looked at him expectantly. “Like who?”

“No one,” Abel correct, looking over the surface of his cider. “Just someone I knew once.”

Ethos frowned but let the topic pass, whereas Abel peeked warily up and met Praxis’s eyes. The man tucked his lips in a considerate smile, not daring to say the name on Abel’s mind but knowing well enough whom it must be. As the highest ranked hunter in both kills and obnoxiousness, Cain’s absence would have been noted. What had the hunters been told? Was he simply on absence for behavior? Discharged? Abel let his tongue get burned instead of think about it. He wasn’t able to taste how good the hot cider was until it was almost gone.

When it came time to order, Abel’s brows furrowed over the menu. “What’s ‘blutwurst’?”

The barmaid’s accent was so thick Abel could only make out: blood vurst.

His complexion paled whereas his fangs pressed against his bottom lip. Abel closed his mouth firmly.

“Blood sausage,” Ethos amended. “It’s actually really good!”

“I think he’ll wait for another day to try it,” Praxis laughed. “We’ve already ordered enough for five. We’ll just share. Thank you.”

The woman nodded and took their empty glasses. Abel took a sip of his abandoned cold cider to make his teeth retract and wondered, “They put blood in the meat? I thought vampires couldn’t eat anything.”

“It’s for humans,” Praxis affirmed. “Vampires are not overly welcomed clientele, but it’s just as Ethos said, the blood pudding is quite nice.”

Abel made a mental note to ask Keeler to make some, but until then his eyes widened at the platters of meat, bread, cheese, and the tureen of soup placed on their table that could have fed ten. “Five? You think five could eat this?”

Praxis smiled before his face was obscured by steam rising from the opened lid. Abel peeked in and once again felt his blood pressure drop. “Why is the broth that color?”

“It’s borscht. It’s made from beets and stuff,” Ethos explained, already ladling some into a bowl.

“In the summer it’s served cold, but it’s warm for us,” Praxis added, handing over a bowl to Abel.

He took it, albeit staring into its contents anxiously. There were clearly chunks of beets and other vegetables as well as meat in it, but he was surprised to see small dumplings of different colored pasta floating around. Blowing on his wide spoon, he slurped a taste and his eyes widened. “That’s good!”

“Try the sausage,” Ethos ushered, piling things like sausage, sourdough bread, cheese, and sauerkraut onto his plate. Between him and Praxis, Abel was full within minutes. He was able to nibble while the others ate and they stayed long enough to turn brunch into dinner, but he was thoroughly satisfied by the time they decided to return to the academy.

“Oh!” Ethos exclaimed when they exited the tavern. “I smell it!”

Abel joined him in gazing up at the evening sky, made dark by winter’s early sunset. A grey blanket of clouds was strewn over their heads. He inhaled deeply, discerning the unique smell of ice. “Oh…”

Ethos’s chin rotated to him. “That was a different ‘oh’ than my ‘oh.’ What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Abel assured. “It’s just different than I remember. Smells good.”

Ethos laughed. “What are you remembering?”

Abel shrugged and then admitted. “I expected something more…metallic.”

Ethos stared at him blankly. “What sort of snow falls where you live?”

Giggles bubbled up Abel’s throat. “Nothing worth mentioning.”

“Let’s go you two,” Praxis nodded in the direction they’d come. “The temperature’s dropping by the second. Ethos, you’re hopeless.”

He once again corrected the wrapping of his roommate’s scarf, but Abel was waddling quickly over the cobblestones since his limbs were held tightly together for warmth. The pair easily caught up to him and teased him before Abel felt himself firmly pressed between the two. The going was slow, but Ethos and Praxis’s combined heat warmed him through. Abel was looking forward to diving underneath his blankets with the sheet on full blast, maybe chatting with Keeler if he’d recovered from the feeding…

“Stop,” Praxis whispered. Abel almost didn’t hear him, he had spoken so quietly, but his arms around Abel and Ethos stopped them in their tracts. Abel peeked up at him, noticing the first snowflake falling and landing on his ebony lashes. “Something’s wrong.”

Ethos and Abel peered ahead, seeing the first sight of the school at the end of the bend in the road, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Then, Ethos spotted it: “The lights are off. The lobby always has something on.”

Abel had not viewed the outside of the building enough times to know this but wondered aloud, “Why would the lights be off?”

“A number of reasons,” Praxis murmured darkly. “Stay beside me, where I can see you.”

Abel could not tell whether he had reached or if Ethos had grasped first, but they held each other’s hands tightly. Praxis led them off the path and into the trees. The high expanses of bark looked black while the leaves glinted silver with what little moon peeked through the clouds. They circled around the academy—which was not exactly small—so by the time they gazed through the shrubbery of the gardens at the rear of the building, Abel felt frozen through except for the adrenaline pumping in his veins. He looked at the glass dome of the astronomy and robotics lab, but not even the lights of the massive telescope spearing through the roof were lit.

He looked to Praxis for direction and found him looking through his phone for messages. “Nothing,” he slid the device back inside his coat, “which means there’s nothing wrong or it’s too much to risk sending out an alert.”

 _Why wouldn’t they send out an alert?_ Abel wondered incredulously. _Keeler would make sure I knew—_

Praxis’s gaze looked over the illuminated screen of Abel’s mobile. “You never said you got a phone.”

“It wasn’t an emergency then,” he replied ambiguously, frowning over Keeler’s message that he read aloud: _“Breach. Don’t come until I tell you.”_

“Fuck,” Praxis hissed.

Abel put his phone away to avoid the illuminated screen being seen. “What does that mean? What’s been breached? And by what?”

He did not expect Praxis to hesitate in answering, but he watched the frown develop on the hunter’s face until he responded, “We’ve been trained in the event of the vampire students and faculty losing control…which would qualify as a breach in the peace, but if the school’s been breached…then an outside threat is the cause.”

“Other vampires?” Ethos queried. His voice was steady but his hand trembled against Abel’s palm. Abel shifted backward and pulled Ethos over so he was the one crouched next to Praxis.

“It’s just too _quiet,”_ Praxis complained mutely. His eyes searched the fortress for a clue but it betrayed nothing. “We can’t message the professor back because that might endanger him…”

The knuckles of his fist pressed against his lips as he contemplated the best course of action, but Abel’s expression opened with an epiphany. _Of course they’re quiet, they don’t have to speak with their voices._

So he listened, but was not prepared for the barrage of sound that attacked his mind. Abel clamped his hands over his ears out of instinct but once his mind was open it was unguarded against the chaos ensuing amongst the vampires. A tug on his wrist and shake of his shoulders alerted him to Praxis and Ethos calling out to him, but Abel could not answer them any more than he could quiet the screaming between his ears. He tried to clamp his eyes shut but tears leaked free before his eyelids shot wide at the feeling of a whisper closer to his ear, physically as well as mentally nearby…

“PRAXIS!” he screamed but his voice broke as something leapt from the bushes behind them. Abel’s hollow cry was further cut short by the vampire thrashing between them, throwing Ethos and Abel on their backs while Praxis caught it against his chest. Abel smelled blood instantly and a new ache pushed tears down his cheeks as his canines elongated—

And then shot back up into his gums when something round but _wet_ hit his cheek and bounced on his lap. Abel’s subconscious knew what it was before his eyes recognized the brother staring back up at him. Abel gaped at Praxis wrestling the creature in the grass; blood dripped over one half of his face while his remaining eye squinted with pain and fury.

Ethos was yanking Abel’s coat, trying to get him on his feet and away from here, but Abel’s eyes had locked onto the vampire now, noticing how its fury did not quite match Praxis’s calculated blows, blocks, and experienced twists of his body…

The vampire was mad, his eyes crazed while spittle mixed with blood splattered Praxis’s cheeks when he roared. _Vampires wouldn’t do that,_ Abel pondered. _Blood is food. Blood is swallowed. Why is he wasting drops like that?_

And then Abel realized the blood was not from a victim or Praxis, but the vampire’s own, because one of his fangs was broken. Praxis rolled over, slamming the vampire on its back beneath him. The contorted face lashed up at him, biting at nothing, but every time the creature gnashed his teeth, a scream burst from him. Abel’s fangs throbbed just from seeing the broken tooth and the fluid oozing over the damaged man’s lips…

Dirty nails scratched up Praxis’s sleeve, targeting his other eye. Those nails scraped over his cheek, carving red grooves into his skin until Abel lunged forward and pinned him against the soft earth. _Stop it! Stop it! We have a hospital! We can treat you! I said STOP IT!_

What if the vampire was too far gone in his agony? A mind could break as well as any bone, but could not be repaired as such. Abel was hardly close to Praxis in terms of strength, how did he really hope to restrain this creature who was more monster than man?

But then, he did stop. Silver irises stared up at Abel in pain and wonder while his features slowly loosened, turning his livid grimace into something injured and desperate.

“Abstammung,” he uttered, but Abel did not understand. Inside his head he heard a weak cry of _blood prince,_ which slowly began to echo throughout the minds around them. Abel’s eyes widened, once more peering up at the school, which was no longer filled with frightened and yelling minds, but ones calming with the knowledge that he was there.

Then, several things happened at once.

********

Cain shoved his empty bowl and plastic spoon out of the cat door. “Give me something else! Fucking Christ, I’m starving.”

His stomach growled angrily, sending sharp pains through his abdomen. Cain liked to think he had a high pain tolerance but he cringed against the aches and his head was swimming with hunger. He had gotten used to the headache during his time here, but this was just cruel. Were they actually meaning to starve him? “Give me a bullet instead of this slow shit,” he complained for no one to hear.

His eyes locked on the trap door again, realizing that not only had no one come for his dishes, but usually they kept it locked. Sliding onto his stomach, Cain poked his head out the door and blinked at the pitch dark corridor. “Did the gaoler die?” he called out, but he was not surprised at the lack of response.

He meant to shift his weight to slide back inside his cell, but he inadvertently pushed a shoulder past the tight doorway. For laughs, he turned onto his side so his other shoulder squeezed under the highest corner of the door, but he was not laughing as he realized he had lost enough weight to fit the top of his torso through the door.

“Shit,” he huffed. His ribs were stuck in the frame, and breathing was becoming impossible. With the last of his air, he spat, “I refuse to be found like this and left to die in my embarrassment.”

He splayed his palms against the steel door and pushed. The next to get caught were his hips, but after a little wiggling, he was free. Standing up, he stretched and felt vertebrae and joints easing as if they had been waiting weeks to pop. His eyes adjusted while his hand dragged over the wall, approaching the reinforced door of the solitary confinement sector. Not only was it physically enhanced, but it was electronically locked shut. He needed a computer to open the damn thing and the access code to get into said computer…unless a power outage of some kind was the reason for the darkness.

To his bewilderment, the lever cranked open under his grip. _What the hell is going on?_

He peeked into the stairwell but no traps awaited him as he ascended to the academy above. Cain frowned at the state of darkness throughout the corridors. He fiddled with some switches and even found a breaker box, but the entire place was shut down.

But not empty.

Cain opened a classroom door to be surprised by a couple dozen sets eyes staring back at him. He observed both the pale and mismatched uniforms of civilians and vampires…but no hunters. Protocol dictated for students to not be alerted if a vampire threat occurred, for classes to continue as normal and to keep the other vampires from joining the trouble…but students knew to take cover behind the fireproof doors of the classrooms in the event of a breach…

Cain’s eyes quickly scanned the glimmering faces for a member of faculty, but found none. This was wrong. There was supposed to be at least one teacher and hunter with each group of students.

Shutting the door, he opened another classroom, only to find the same absence. Cain took off through the corridor, keeping to the shadows and sprinting up the shortcut stairs to the dormitories. Why wasn’t a single faculty member here? Was the breach in their living quarters? How would someone get so far and catch them unaware?

A shadow intercepted Cain’s path, causing him to skid to a halt and pin Deimos against the wall. “You better have an explanation for scaring me like that,” he growled.

A brow rose ever so slightly. “Scared?” he whispered, his voice more broken than usual with Cain’s elbow against his throat.

“Hyper aware,” Cain reiterated. “Get to it, Deimos.”

“You’re thinner,” he replied instead. His ice blue eyes roamed over Cain’s lanky figure.

“Call Vogue, then,” he snapped. “Have we been breached?”

The small nod induced Cain to release him and continue his long stride over the carpet. “Then what the hell are the hunters doing?”

He knew by Deimos’ whisper that the smaller man was right on his heels, literally his shadow. “Rogues.”

Cain glanced over his shoulder. “Shit. Why here?”

“Winter.”

He snorted quietly in his throat. “What, the vamps can’t handle a little snow?”

“No,” was all Deimos responded.

Cain appreciated how direct Deimos could be, but not when he once again stepped in front and blocked Cain’s path. “Not there.”

“What do you mean, ‘not there’?” Cain growled.

“Rogues in the garden.”

“Why didn’t you say that first,” he retorted, spinning on his heel and marching back down the stairs. “Where’s that Commander of ours?”

“Bering or Cook?” Deimos replied beside him. His steps were even quieter than Cain’s.

“Either! Does anyone give a damn about this place? I get locked up and it goes to shit.”

A velvety rattle of air suggested Deimos was laughing, but their pace was quick enough that it was pointless for him to answer. No sooner did they open the French doors to the gardens then they were knocked aside by two people rushing indoors. Cain recognized the round face of…Empos? Dethos? Ethos? But mostly the form of Praxis slouched over his shoulders.

“What the hell happened to you?” Cain wondered, for once out of curiosity more than scorn. Praxis looked up, revealing how one of his eyes was missing. Cain waved the matter away. “Never mind, don’t answer that.”

He stepped around them, but stopped when Praxis gripped his arm. “Where have you been?”

“Monte Carlo, but I went broke,” he quipped. “Get to the medic since you’re so useless.”

“Abel’s still out there.”

Cain halted. “What?”

“He ran off,” Praxis shook his head, causing garnet droplets to fall off his chin. “He got the rogue one off me but then twenty others appeared and we were split up.”

Cain’s feet were moving before he thought about it. Why would that idiot run off from the protection of a hunter? Well, with one eye and barely standing, Praxis was not exactly capable of protecting anyone, let alone the prime magnet for vampires.

“Deimos, track him,” he commanded.

“There,” Deimos pointed past Cain’s chest to the right. He hadn’t expected an answer so quickly but he rerouted his direction without complaint. However the sudden appearance of a rogue female gnawing on his leg slowed things down a bit.

********

“Stop following me!” Abel cried, tripping over a root but catching himself to keep running.

“Abstammung,” the vampire chased after him. “Blut Fürst!”

“Is that all you can say? Shut up!” Abel cried as he rounded a tall hedge to the side of the building. The start of an open, flagstone courtyard tripped him anew, this time sending him sprawled over the stone and jarring the air from his lungs. Struggling for breath, he rolled over to see the hoard of vampires slow down behind him, but it was not Praxis’s assailant that he feared. Fourteen or so—he’d lost count while running—other vampires rushed behind him, and he could hear the footfalls of others crashing through the flora.

“What do you want?” he screamed, managing to get to his feet but wobbled on a sprained ankle. He nearly dropped to one knee as needles surged through his shin; his knees did not take too kindly to the fall either.

 _What do you want from me?_ he internalized, but he only received broken perceptions of _...Prince…hungry. Feed. Cold…winter…blood is slow…prince is warm…_

“Encke,” he sobbed, no longer wanting to hear their wants or see them eyeing him like meat. _Encke, help me._

“EXCUSE YOU! I HAVE DEVELOPED A STRICT NO BITING POLICY!”

Abel startled at the voice before a high pitched cry was cut short by the sound of bone breaking. A moment later, Cain sprinted through the hedge groves and barreled into the nearest rogue vampire, scattering them like bowling pins. On the other side came Encke and a flash of silver. Three vampire bodies dropped to the flagstones, their heads rolling. Abel gasped when something touched him but met Keeler’s tranquil, focused gaze.

“I told you not to come,” he scolded, giving Abel the briefest of hugs. “You’re exciting them.”

“I didn’t check my phone,” Abel explained, “not until—”

A vampire struck them, but Keeler had the frame of mind to pivot Abel away. All three of them hit the ground, but Keeler grappled with a female vampire. Her tawny hair was in her face and even stuck in her teeth, but her nails scratched at Keeler’s throat, her face trying to bite any exposed skin she could reach while licking what little bit of crimson her nails caught.

“Keel—!” Abel began, but a second and third vampire landed atop his uncle, and something in Abel snapped.

He lunged forward, shoving off one vampire as his clawed fingers gripped the female’s head, smashing her skull against the stones. The third vampire reared away, eyes wide as his knees gave out beneath him. Abel did not realize his fangs were fully out until he saw red on his hands and a pale wrist broken by blue veins was being offered up to him. The woman was barely conscious, but her remaining strength was used to offer herself in surrender. The two men knelt so low their chests touched the ground, wrists lifted for him.

Abel’s eyes darted between his hands and their veins, not knowing what to do. Why were they bowing to him now when they chased him seconds earlier?

A whisper of touch was on his cheek, and then his face was turned away from the sight by Keeler beside him. “I’m all right, love. Come here, stand up.”

He was already on his feet, but his uncle helped his spine stand erect even while he began to tremble, his fresh tears exhibiting the fear and confusion he could not voice. He buried his face against Keeler’s neck and chest, already healed of scratches. Abel felt arms encompass him while a hand embedded itself in his hair and wanted to get lost right here, to evaporate instead of see how the other vampires knelt as well, how the chaos of the night was suddenly quiet enough for the fountains to be heard.

Keeler’s head jerked up. “There are more coming.”

Encke gazed into the garden, past the hedges and flowerbeds to whatever sound Keeler was hearing. The sword in his hand glinted in the light. A moan of annoyance broke the quiet as eyes turned to Cain.

“What the hell is with these rogues. Is winter really so bad or is Abel like a delicacy to them or something?”

“Who let you out of your cage?” Encke inquired, stern but not entirely surprised by his escape.

“No one,” Cain scoffed, “just like no one was feeding me. You’d think this place would have a backup generator to keep the electronic locks shut. Could you answer my question?”

Keeler supplied, “The cold slows the blood down. The nights may be longer but a vampire could freeze and be immobile as the sun rises. It’s no excuse for these rogues’ behavior, though. Encke, what’s wrong with them?”

Before Encke could answer, Abel flinched, moving away from the vampire barely touching his ankle. “Abstammung…”

Cain kicked him in the head, causing him to cover his face as he fell onto his side, hissing between his fingers. Cain stared at Abel when his pale hands pushed against his chest. “Stop, he’s just in pain.”

“So am I!” Cain retorted. “He should have snacked before he came here—”

“His tooth’s broken,” Keeler observed. Encke stepped forward but not quickly enough to stop Keeler from crouching over the rogue and lifting his chin higher to see. “Who did this to him?”

“It’s not for you to worry over,” Encke countered, grasping his shoulder and pulling him back. The rogues reared up, hissing while some rose into a crouch, fangs bared. Encke cringed out of annoyance and hooked a finger on his collar, pulling it down to reveal Keeler’s bite. Cain watched, baffled, as their expressions cleared and chins ducked back down…as if the bite was some sort of badge over them.

“Wait a minute,” he declared. “Did they just…get protective? These mindless things wanted to drain you a minute ago and now they’re bowing to your blood partner?”

Encke showed his fangs while Keeler’s brows merely lifted. “It seems the walls have ears, but yes. There is a system of conduct that runs in our veins, even theirs, that will be obeyed when we assert ourselves. After all, a king is just a man until he proves himself over other men. We can warm their blood. We can protect them from the sun. There is a fear and a devotion in our kind that you would not understand.”

He was holding Abel once more, his hand running through the soft tresses that blended with the snowflakes falling over them, but Abel’s face was turned in the other direction. He wouldn’t look at Cain, even when he’d pushed him.

“Encke, I’ll get the Academy back online. You store these few in the confinement ward. Some of them may become coherent with a bit of warmth and a full stomach. This one goes straight to the medic. He likes you, Abel, can you control him?”

Cain did not expect that head to nod, but it did, and Abel reluctantly pulled himself from his uncle’s embrace. “Come on, then,” he murmured.

The rogue with the broken tooth moved from all fours like an animal afraid to approach, but followed obediently after him. Encke gestured with his sword for the others to follow. “If I see any teeth, your head hits the floor.”

The others followed Keeler while Encke trailed behind. Cain watched them go, the furrow in his brow becoming more pronounced as the vampires disappeared one after another inside. “What is the point of Bering or Cook when those two are clearly running the place?”

“More coming,” Deimos reminded, gazing off in the distance.

“Good,” Cain vented. “I could do with some punching.”

“No,” Deimos countered, stepping nearer. “The perimeter is secure enough. They will come for you.”

Cain’s eyes rolled to land on him. “No offense, _myshonok,_ but you’re a bit smaller than me, and therefore an easier target.”

Deimos’ hand grasped his shoulder, but it was feather light. His nose grazed up the column of his throat, however, shooting Cain’s eyelids wide. The small hunter lifted onto his toes, his lips pressing into the space behind his ear while he inhaled Cain’s scent. “Your smell is attractive.”

“Ugh,” he grumbled and shoved Deimos’ chest hard. “I’d rather have one pro hungry for me than a mob of rogues. What, this isn’t enough to scare them off?”

He pointed at the scar on his mouth, which Deimos’ eyes stared at so long Cain wondered if he’d heard what he said. “No connection. He hasn’t consumed your essence. You’re nothing to him.”

Cain’s eyelids dropped to half-mast. “Wow, thank you for putting it so eloquently. You sound like them when you say it like that.”

They reached the French doors, which locked behind them but in the distance, between the tree trunks and leaves, Cain saw the glimmer of light reflecting in many eyes.

********

Abel did not find the medical ward in a receptive mood when he brought the dirty and slobbering vampire in, but with a bit of coaxing, along with the sympathy from the vampire staff at the sight of the tooth, the vampire was quickly attended to. As soon as he went under the anesthesia, Abel left to return to his room, not bothering to say goodnight to Ethos slumped over the unconscious Praxis’s cot.

“Mr. Ethaniel.”

Abel paused and startled slightly at Commander Cook leaning against an alcove housing a rather large rubber plant. “Sir?”

The man smiled. “Not necessary, Abel. That was a brave thing you did out there. Before tonight, I couldn’t name anyone who would defend a rogue, let alone be able to find a modicum of sense in one. Most of our hunters are dispatched to relieve vampires whose age has expired their minds.”

Abel was unsure what to say, but he heard the words, “I’m not a hunter,” exit his lips.

That smile returned. “I know, but you are special. I don’t want you to hesitate to come to me if you have something on your mind. Do you understand?”

No, he didn’t, and he voiced as much. “Where were you? Where was anyone? There weren’t any hunters outside, apart from Encke, Deimos, and Cain. Praxis didn’t even get an alert to what was happening.”

“Indeed,” he sighed. “An unfortunate mistake, which will not be repeated. Our teams were sent off the premises for missions while we were severely understaffed. We had no way of knowing the weather would hit like this and bring rogues with it.”

“Praxis knew,” Abel countered. “Why would you send every team out? If you’re tracking vampire movement, then how could you miss the ones headed straight here?”

Commander Cook stepped out of the alcove, approaching Abel as if for a closer look at him but allowed him a descent amount of space. “You’re not wrong, Abel. The only excuse I have is that I am not in charge of the hunters. That task falls on Commander Bering’s shoulders.”

Abel’s scowl was having a difficult time leaving his face. “But you outrank him, do you not?”

Cook chuckled, catching Abel off guard. “Another fair point, and I intend to observe his movements more closely in the future. His choices tonight have proven foolish for someone with as much experience as he has. But how are you, Abel? You’ve suffered an alarming number of shocks tonight.”

“I want a shower,” he answered bluntly.

This was clearly not what the man had expected to hear but then he laughed and nodded, “Then I shan’t keep you. I hope you sleep well, Abel, and do remember my offer.”

Abel nodded once, already stepping forward to be on his way. “Yes, sir.”

The Commander’s hand on his shoulder gave him pause. “You are a wonderful student and a valuable asset to Keeler’s work. While I admire your gumption, do not be so reckless in the future. You are too good to lose, Abel.”

 _I just want to shower and forget everything,_ he complained inwardly. Cook’s hand released him, and he did lose all memory of his trek upstairs, but after emerging from a shower hot enough to cast a red hue to his flesh, he remembered to feed Tantos and promptly fell into the oblivion of sleep.

********

Cain rummaged through one of the many gargantuan refrigerators in the school’s kitchen. He could hear the chatter of students returning to their dorms outside of the cafeteria, but it was the clip of a heel on the tile floor that jerked his head out of the frigid shelves, thrusting a salami link against Commander Bering’s throat.

“Easy,” he held his hands up in mock surrender. “You ought to be careful with that.”

Cain made a sound of displeasure and bit into the meat, followed by a bite of cheese right out of the wedge. “You better have a good fucking reason for letting me rot in a cell for half a season after the shit you got me into.”

“Don’t be upset,” Bering soothed. “Encke acted without my consent, and I’ve been away for most of the past month. I knew you would be safest where you were, so I did not go against the events. But look at you now, not out for twenty minutes and you are already watching over Abel. The two of you may not be on good terms now, but he will remember your actions.”

Cain would have slammed the fridge door if he wasn’t finished picking out his personal feast. “I don’t need to protect the school’s princess anymore. He can obviously take care of himself just fine, and this—” he yanked down his collar to show the bite scar, “—was apparently a pointless endeavor.”

“Not pointless,” Bering corrected. “We know Abel is progenitor, but there is something more about him. We’ve observed progenitor behaviors and how others act around them, and what occurred this evening was testament to Abel’s abilities.”

“Who the fuck is ‘we’?” Cain argued around a bite of raw zucchini. The amount of cheese and meat in his mouth disguised the raw flavor, but he’d been ready to kill for something with crunch every time mushy porridge was shoved under the door. “I knew you couldn’t give two shits about hunters but clearly everyone is a pawn to you.”

“There are more pieces on a chess board than weak pawns,” Bering uttered, and that drew Cain’s attention off of his food.

“What does that make me? The castle?”

Bering guffawed. “A rook does have a straight forward approach like you, but let’s not label ourselves. The point of this discussion is how you’ve seen the sort of attention Abel can draw, from all sorts.”

“I’m only going to say this one more time: the princess can take care of himself. I wouldn’t have thought he had it in him, but he’s not a pushover, and if you want eyes and ears on him, then maybe you should get a better rein on Encke.”

“He is already lost,” Bering contradicted. “He and his partner are too involved on the wrong side to contribute to our cause.”

Cain scoffed, “What cause is that? I never thought I’d say this, but I think I’ll put my lot with the vampires instead of your schemes. Turns out the nocturnal types are more intelligent than we were ever taught.”

“Be careful, Cain.” The hunter’s eyes lowered on the hand grasping his shoulder. “My schemes are not the only ones influencing this place, and this academy is merely a focal point for large scale activity. After all, three progenitors within close proximity of each other is no small thing. You would be wise to be the eyes and ears I need.”

Cain disregarded the hand placement in favor of a single word: “Three? Don’t you mean two—”

“Good evening, Cain,” Bering said on his way out of the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you couldn't tell by all the German words, this story happens somewhere around Germany! haha at least for the sake of Gothic, black forest imagery. Any German speakers, feel free to correct me on any of these, but the only one you really need to know is "abstammung" which means lineage, ancestry, parentage, etc. Poor Abel gets away from his parents only to be constantly reminded of them :(
> 
> Happy holidays everyone!


	7. Generation Gap

Abel awoke to contrasting sensations: soft strokes pulled through his hair while something rough moved past his cheek. His eyes opened to view Tantos crawling over his pillow like he was claiming territory, while Keeler greeted him with a smile.

“Hello, sleepy head. Don’t wake up too much; classes have been cancelled today. I wanted to tell you before your alarm went off.”

“Why?” he breathed, blinking against the claws placed on his forehead.

Keeler moved the iguana’s arm and it continued its path around Abel’s head. “The students have never had to react to a breach before, so we’re giving them time to recover from the shock. The faculty is also preoccupied with the maintenance of rogues. Some are responding quite well, while others…well, it’s to be expected.”

“Will they have to die?”

Keeler smiled sadly. “If they don’t show some sort of response soon, I’m afraid so. They’re a danger to everyone including themselves.”

“You said someone had broken that one’s tooth,” Abel remembered. “Who would do that? Can’t we give them more time to recover if someone’s going around pulling teeth?”

The hand in his hair moved to rub his chest. “I’m trying to get them more time, but the hunters were not happy to come home and find the human-to-vampire ratio out of balance. And I don’t know who is responsible…but I’m hoping to find out. The gentleman who responded to you is progressing nicely after just a few hours. I have a favor to ask of you, but I won’t push you.”

Abel rubbed sleep from his eye. “What do you mean?”

“You have more sway over them than I do. You’re the best hope of bringing their…shall we say ‘humanity,’ back. But the others are not the priority right now. The root of the vampire’s broken tooth has been removed and he is under painkillers until his body recuperates. When he becomes coherent, I’m hoping you’ll be able to discover who broke it in the first place.”

“When will that be?”

Keeler shrugged. “Could be today for all we know. He really is doing astonishingly well. The human doctors are uselessly ignorant when it comes to a vampire's care. The stethoscopes can’t even pick up a vampire’s heartbeat, but the nocturnal nurses believe he will be drinking from bags on his own by this evening.”

Abel nodded; at least he had all day to mentally prepare. “Can I go into town?”

Keeler was surprisingly chipper in his consent. “As long as you’re back before sundown, sure. What did you have in mind?”

“Praxis and Ethos took me to a place with delicious food, but they had something called blood sausage that I was going to bring back for us to try.”

His uncle nodded but his gaze was keen. Abel did not need to voice how he was uncomfortable trying something with blood out in the open. “I’ve had it; it’s wonderful, although Encke shakes his head at it since it’s made with animal blood. But do bring some and if you like it I’ll try to recreate it when the craving strikes. Be sure to bundle up; we’ll have a white holiday this year.”

Abel cocooned himself in his comforter and stood with it to peer out of his skylight. He could just see the treetops frosted in white, and some cheerful cries and laughter were drifting through the air.

“What are the people doing outside?” he wondered.

“Probably waging a snowball war. There are already a good number of snowmen guarding the perimeter.”

Abel frowned over his shoulder at him. Keeler merely shook his head on his way out of the room. “You’ll understand when you see them. Come eat something before you go.”

A fresh baked croissant and cup of tea later, Abel was making his way down the stairs while trying to arrange his fringe under the ski hat Keeler had loaned him. One of the staff in the lobby wished him good morning before Abel noticed a neat pile of maps and stepped closer to see certain venues enlarged, such as the tavern he sought. He was perusing over the other locations as he pushed open the doors, only to walk right into a snow covered entity.

“Oh! Sorr-rr-hm,” Abel exclaimed before he met Cain’s puzzled look. In the brightness of the snow, he saw that his black irises were actually a startlingly dark shade of blue. Abel quickly swerved around him.

“Wha-oi! Wait a second!” Cain exclaimed.

“I’d rather not!” Abel returned without looking back.

A couple moments later, though, Cain had sprinted and caught up with him. “What’s with that response? You knocked the food right out of my hands.”

Abel peeked and found him funneling dried blueberries into his mouth from a bag. Cain wore a black cossack hat on his head, which his equally dark hair was trying to escape, appropriately making him look like a wolf that had just sprung free of a trap. “What do you want? Why are you covered in snow?”

“Because I won,” he mumbled proudly around his meal. Abel glanced past him at the people digging ice out of their crevasses. Cain was dusted in comparison. “Shouldn’t you have an escort instead of wandering on your own?”

“I’m not an invalid,” Abel shot back, doubling his stride toward the city.

“I didn’t say you were, damn,” Cain retorted. “Where are you going, then?”

“For food, what do you care?”

Cain’s laugh surprised him. “Finally tired of the cafeteria fare? I didn’t realize they made specialty meals for inmates, but you won’t hear me admit that it's better to eat as a prisoner than a civilian.”

Abel lifted an eyebrow at him. Was Cain trying to make conversation? The hunter continued, “I raided the damn refrigerators and got indigestion. I won’t be able to poop for a week. Where are you getting food? Everything will be shut down because of the snow.”

“Not the,” Abel had to look at he map to remember the name, “Sleipner Tavern…Sleepner? Slepner—?”

“You’re going to a bar?” Cain curtailed. He folded his empty bag and stored it inside his coat. “You’ll get eaten alive.”

“No I won’t,” Abel huffed. “I’ve already been there before, and what do you even mean by that?”

“Things like to go bump in the light too, you know,” Cain replied while sticking his hands in his pockets. “It’s cuddle weather, after all.”

“Fend for yourself,” Abel returned as they emerged within the city. Thanks to Cain’s distraction, they had arrived sooner than expected.

“Ouch,” he laughed. “Tell me how you really feel—is this it? How did you even find this place?” he interjected, staring up at the lackluster façade.

“Could you not follow me?” Abel complained, “and Praxis found it.”

Cain grimaced and pulled the door handle right out of Abel’s hand. He just barely stepped aside to not get hit by the door. “I have to make up for lost meals. Get inside already. My ass was frozen through twenty minutes ago.”

“That’s not my problem!” Abel retorted as they entered the familiar haze of noise and aromas. “You didn’t have to follow me.”

“Too late, now what do you want to drink while we’re here?” Cain disregarded, already steering toward the bar.

“I’ll get it myself,” Abel began, but Cain’s large hand closed around his shoulder and ushered him in the direction of the tables.

“Nope, you’re getting that spot by the fire before the woman with huge tits steals it. I see her eyes all over it. What do you want before you go?”

“Hot cider,” he admitted, and then unwrapped his scarf and made a small pile of hat, scarf, gloves, and coat on the seat opposite him. The same barmaid recognized him and came over to see if he wanted food. She smiled at his request for blutwurst and promised to box it up for him.

He had almost forgotten he was to have brunch with Cain of all people when he heard, “Wow, don’t fall in the snow like that, or you’ll never be found.”

Abel frowned down at his white turtleneck. “What’s wrong with it? It’s warm versus the cold outside.”

Cain set down the mugs and moved Abel’s items to take his seat. He ruffled his hair as soon as the cossack was off. “Do I really need to explain? I ought to call you Snow White. Have you ordered already?”

Abel pressed _send_ to his message to Keeler letting him know he had arrived at the tavern. “Yeah, it shouldn’t take long—hey!”

Cain swiped his mobile off the table and made a face at the screen. “Isn’t this the wallpaper that comes with the phone? Boring.”

He leaned across the table towards Abel’s shoulder, pointing the device at the fireplace. Abel reached for it but Cain slapped his hand away. “What are you doing?”

“You’ll thank me,” he said as a _ca-chuk!_ noise sounded. “I don’t even like this season and you’re severely lacking in holiday spirit.”

He set the phone down and began tinkering with the picture he’d taken. “What are you doing?” Abel wondered, mostly curious now.

“Ta-da,” Cain said, sliding the phone over the wood. Abel observed the lock screen but then the home screen had a video of the flames dancing over the grate behind the apps.

“You can change it? How’d you do that?” Abel exclaimed, fascinated.

“There’s an app for that,” Cain scoffed, “but it’s called ‘Settings,’ genius. Don’t they teach you that in your robot lab?”

Abel spared a moment to scowl at him before he navigated to these so-called ‘Settings’. “I’ve never had a phone before, so shove off. Wait, is this ‘gif’ thing it?”

Cain focused on the icon he was pointing to and proceeded to show him how videos could be condensed into replaying moments. Their heads perked up when the steel tureen was placed between them with a platter of cheese, bread, sauerkraut, and bratwurst.

“Thank you!” Abel chimed, and lifted the lid off of the soup.

Cain peered into the steam and scowled, “Borscht?”

“Yeah!” Abel smiled. “You know it?”

Then the lid clanged back over the tureen. “That’s not borscht. I’ll be back.” He once again slapped Abel’s hand that was reaching for the lid. “Don’t touch it!”

He gaped as he watched Cain disappear in the crowd and stared longingly at his meal. “What’s wrong with it?” he asked no one.

As quickly as he’d gone, Cain returned, holding a bowl of what looked like caramelized onions, leeks or something similar, and something else that Abel was too slow in seeing before it was dumped into the soup. Cain had another dish of what looked like a small mountain of golden sugar and—

Abel gaped as all of the salt and sugar fell into the red depths. “That’s too much salt!” he wheezed.

“Shush,” Cain scolded as he stirred the contents.

“Where did you even get all of this?” Abel accused. 

"I've stolen from more guarded kitchens,” Cain declared as he sipped a spoonful of broth.

With a smirk on his lips, he ladled the soup into a bowl, which he then set in front of Abel. “ _That’s_ borscht.”

The blonde was hesitant to try it. He’d been so eager to have the soup from yesterday again but he sipped once…and then twice…and then peeked up at Cain awaiting his response. “Why is this better than before?”

Cain’s expectant brows dropped in annoyance. “Because I can actually cook, damn it, and I grew up with this. I’m a man of hidden talents. Just say thanks and eat it.”

He spooned several mouthfuls between his lips and chewed contently until Abel muttered, “It’s still too salty.”

“You’re too salty,” he countered, and shoved a slice of bread into Abel’s mouth.

“Mmm!” he complained, before his eyes lolled and he chewed groggily, placated by the medley of flavors in his mouth. At least, until he tried to wash it down with cider and was attacked by the spice of cloves. “This…” cough, “is this mulled cider?”

Cain stared at him perplexedly. “Yeah, so?”

“I asked for hot!”

“It is hot!”

“Hot and mulled are different!”

“Who cares? They’re both hot! Don’t be a light weight and drink your cider!”

“What are you drinking, then?” Abel challenged.

“Mulled wine, dingus.” He gulped from his mug for emphasis.

“Is it good?” Abel wondered, catching the hunter off guard.

“Obviously…or else I wouldn’t have gotten it. Are you asking to try some?”

Abel glanced between the man and the mug. “Are you offering?”

Cain rolled his eyes and set the container in front of him. The liquid looked like a purple so dark it was black until the light of the fire cast it with hues of garnet. Abel ignored the tingle in his gums and sipped until Cain had to take the mug from him. “Hey, hey, I’ll get you one if it’s so good but don’t drink mine.”

“Yours is fruitier than this,” Abel commented, swirling his cider.

Cain chuckled over his wine. “Obviously you have a sweet tooth…explains why you liked me so much.”

Abel’s expression became deadpan. “Obviously not.”

Cain gripped his chest as if he’d been struck. “Ah! Ow, you’re really cut and dry today. I have feelings, you know.”

He shoveled a spoonful of beets into his mouth and wiped his forehead before he shrugged out of his coat. Abel did a double take at the man’s shoulders and arms. He was certainly thinner. Even though he still wore his scarf over his long-sleeve, it was apparent how much weight he’d lost while in captivity. Abel hadn’t noticed last night because of all the commotion…

Cain noticed where Abel’s eyes had landed and jibed, “Don’t worry, I’ll be back to size in no time. Just give me a few more of these.” The tureen went _ting ting_ as his finger tapped upon it.

Abel ducked his chin and focused on using his spoon. “I’m not worried.”

He could hear Cain’s smile. “Sure, sure.”

Abel was full after a single bowl and a couple slices of bread with sausage and sauerkraut piled on top, but he watched in astonishment as Cain emptied the tureen and cleaned the platter. “Ughhf,” he sighed, leaning back in his seat and rubbing his stomach.

“How are you not dead?” Abel sassed.

Cain huffed a laugh. “Strong metabolism, sweet heart. This will push out that cafeteria garbage in no time. Shall we go?”

“Not yet,” Abel said, searching for the barmaid and sharing a nod when he caught her gaze. Cain asked what he was waiting on, to which Abel hesitated before admitting, “Blood pudding.”

Cain shook his head. “Why didn’t you order that with the food?”

“Because…” He propped his chin in his hand. “Because it’s none of your business.”

But Cain deduced, “If you’re worried about going pro, I guarantee the stuff doesn’t actually taste like blood. It just turns the sausage black.”

Abel peered at him. “How would you know that?”

He shrugged contently. “I’ve taken a few hits in the mouth, and eaten some things more raw than cooked to know what blood tastes like. Frankly, you should be more concerned by how many onions they put in it than blood.”

A box was set down at that moment and the barmaid began taking up their dishes. Abel stood to search through the pockets of his coat but found Cain already paying at the bar. “Wait, no! I’ll—”

“Shush.” He caught Abel against him and the blonde felt his face press into the soft scarf and inhaled… _Cain._ Not smoke. “The idiots were still paying me while I was locked up. Consider your Christmas sorted, or whatever it is you celebrate. Go get dressed.”

Cain released him to finish the transaction, and Abel found his way back to the table. He wasn’t sure how to feel about having his meal being bought twice now as he arranged his hair to be able to see with his ski hat on. He draped his scarf around his shoulders and pulled on his gloves, but when he turned to grab his coat it was held aloft for him. “I can do it.”

“I’m already here, just put your arms through,” Cain ushered, wiggling the coat to coax Abel forth. He did, but as soon as Cain reached for his scarf with the comment of how he wouldn’t survive a Russian winter, Abel swatted him away.

“Shove off, Cain!”

“I get that you’re Mr. Independent, but let me be nice.”

“Annoying, is what you’re humm!” Cain’s successful wrapping of the scarf around his neck and mouth cut off Abel’s words.

Cain grinned at the daggers Abel glared at him. “Oh sorry,” he pulled the scarf down, “What was that?”

“Carry the stupid box,” Abel grumbled, shoving the food against his chest. Cain was dressed and ready within seconds, and caught up to him at the door of the pub. Abel was surprised by the silence they maintained until he glanced and found Cain eating the sausage.

“Hey! That’s not yours!” But the hunter danced out of his reach and cackled gleefully while he ran with the food. “Cain, stop! I can’t run on the ice!”

“Can you hop, skip, or prance?” he sang in return, munching on what looked like a salami link except for the darker color. He lithely skipped into a romping step, only to be surprised by Abel tackling him in the snow. “Ow, you’re quick when you want to be.”

Abel snatched the box and plucked the sausage out of the snow before marching away. He swatted his coat and legs free of snow but his hat was askew and ice was slithering under his scarf. Cain tugged the hat to rights, but stayed to play with the tassels. “You look like a snow bunny.”

Abel tightened his body against the cold and did his waddle-run away from him. “Stop it! I’m not your plaything and it’s too cold for this!”

“Playing is the only good thing about snow!” Cain rebuked, and then analyzed Abel’s movements. “Don’t tell me that’s _running._ ”

“My teeth hurt! I’m not designed for this weather like you are!”

“No one is _designed_ for this weather,” he scoffed. “We adapt and over come…and play.”

“CAIN!” Abel yelped when arms encircled his waist and he was spun off his feet. “I thought you said you hated this season!”

“I said I didn’t like it, not that I was anti-fun, grouchy pants.” Then he realized, “Wow, you are shivering.”

“There’s snow in my scarf!” Abel chattered. “Put me down!”

Instantly, he did, and proceeded to unwind the scarf to shake out the flakes. Abel visibly trembled, turning up his collar against the new specks falling from the sky—

Cain’s coat was open, and without thinking Abel stepped into it. Just as he expected: Cain was a furnace, making him shiver against his chest until Abel realized what he’d done and jerked back. The scarf had already been returned to his neck, however, and inadvertently hooked him in place. Cain appeared completely unbothered, only mildly surprised as the scarf was yanked out of his hands.

“It’s too cold for this,” Abel repeated, quickly wrapping the thing with finality before a new layer of warmth enveloped him, and Abel froze as he was awash in Cain’s scent. The man was opening a side of his coat for him, pulling Abel within its hot confines.

And it was _hot_. Why was Cain warmer than when Praxis and Ethos had walked beside him? Abel couldn’t help but pivot into him so he fit against Cain’s torso and under his arm. “Why are you so warm?” he asked begrudgingly.

Cain laughed, and the sound reverberated through Abel’s layers. Cain adjusted the ski hat once more and then recommenced their trek to the academy. Why was he suddenly doting on him so much? The last conversation they had did not bequeath fond memories for Abel, and he was sure Cain felt the same way since it resulted in his incarceration. Nevertheless, Abel wound up clasping his hands around Cain’s waist to keep their steps in sync.

“I have a question,” he announced.

Abel’s stomach clenched. “Regarding…?”

“I’ve been told a third progenitor is running around. Obviously you’re one, and your uncle is two, but who’s the third?”

Abel thought for a moment and shook his head. “I don’t know. Who told you this?”

“How do you not know? Can’t vampires sense each other?” he answered instead.

“They can sense _me,_ ” Abel corrected, “but I’ve never interacted with anyone other than my family. Who told you this?”

Cain sighed, “Bering. He wants me to keep an eye on you.”

Abel jerked away from him, but Cain held firm. “Hey, hey, relax,” he purred. “I’ll be the first to admit that I went along with it but I’ve been convinced I care more about this place than he does. I wasn’t just talking when I said I hated liars, and he’s been leading me on. When he told me a new kid was going to arrive, I didn’t think twice since you turned out to be human…or what I thought was human. I thought you’d be the easiest task I’d ever been given. Clearly I was wrong. I know now why he has an interest in you, for the most part, but he said last night that a lot of the rogue activity is because three pros are in one place attracting them. He could just be luring me in to keep doing as he wants, but I thought you’d have some idea of who the third one is.”

“How did anyone know I was like this before I got here? Is there some sort of registry of us?” Abel exclaimed.

“As if I know,” Cain said, but not unkindly.

“You need to know! This is serious!” Abel erupted, shaking off his coat.

“Woah, woah, I can’t have Bering sneezing over me and you breathing down my neck. I’m not doing a double spy thing.”

“Don’t you understand?” Abel pleaded, but then he realized, no, of course he didn’t. Hunters were only given the winning side’s version of history. “Hunters committed genocide against my kind! This whole peace is a lie! The only reason it exists is because there are constantly bullets pointed at progenitors’ heads! Cain, I can’t have the Commander of hunters targeting me! And if he knows about Keeler, then…”

His words trailed off as he rapidly processed his situation. _It was a mistake coming here. But Keeler’s here. I’m best where he is…_

“And we can’t even leave because it would cause too much suspicion,” he finished.

“Hold on, baby, just cool off…which shouldn’t be difficult out here,” Cain hushed. “Encke already told me all this while you were hospitalized after you tried to take a bite out of me.”

Abel whirled around. “Then why are you being so dumb!” Cain wasn’t sure if it was a question or an accusation. “And don’t call me that! Just because you’re suddenly skinny and being nice doesn’t mean you and I are fine! You said awful things to me last time and haven’t apologized!”

“What have I been doing for the past two hours?” Cain interrogated. “If you couldn’t guess, _sweet heart_ , I’m the bang and dash type, but I’ve given you my best shot at a proper date.”

“Date?” Abel repeated, confounded.

“Yes! Not a bad trial run, if I do say so myself.” He straightened his cossack proudly.

“What’s a date?”

He stared at Abel blankly. “What do you mean? A date’s a date.”

Abel turned back around, stomping toward the school. “You’re not making sense! There’s no point in talking to you!”

“Oh sweet christ,” Cain growled and jogged to catch up. “Stay on topic, would you? Clearly there’s a plot afoot, and I want to figure it out.”

“Fine! But keep me and my uncle—and Encke—out of it! I’ve got other things to worry about.”

Cain sneered. “Well you and Encke have gotten close, haven’t you? Almost as close as Praxis. And what could you possibly have prioritized over this?”

“I don’t know,” Abel sassed. “Maybe how someone might be torturing vampires to the point that they become rogues? How suddenly I’m the one who has to save them?”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Cain rebuked. “You can let them rot if they’re too far gone. You don’t have to accept that sort of responsibility.”

“You don’t understand!” Abel interjected again, fists trembling at his sides. Cain’s brows lifted, not for the first time today, and likely not the last.

“You’re fiery about this. What has you so pent up over it?”

“Because this is my history!” Abel exclaimed, palms opening as if begging him to understand. “My family, and other families like mine, were supposed to protect vampires. The reason vampires are being treated this way is because their guardians are practically extinct! There’s so much to this you don’t know, and can’t understand.”

“Well how do you know it?” Cain challenged, getting tired of being accused of incompetency. He felt as he was having to swim through gravel to gain this hush hush, sub rosa information. “Did your parents tell you or is there a special manual pros get access to?”

“Of course not! You stupid hunters tried to burn all of our written materials!” Abel responded, and Cain caught what he was not saying.

“But did not succeed?”

Cain found a gloved finger nearly touching his nose. “Don’t put words into my mouth!”

“Then don’t accuse me of things I didn’t do! That hunter-progenitor war happened ages ago. I’m good, but not so good I can look like this at age nine hundred.”

Abel glared at him. “You’re not cute.”

“I’m a fucking delight. And for being locked up almost seven weeks, I think my bounce-back is commendable.”

Abel shook his head and ignored him as they rounded the bend in the path and viewed a new batch of students throwing snowballs at one another. Abel’s steps slowed as he observed heaps of snow dressed with top hats, scarves, given carrots for noses, branches for arms, or even had canes leaning against them. He laughed to himself, “Snowmen.”

“Hm?” Cain sounded, already holding the door for him into the building. Abel shook his head again and entered the lobby which smelled of…chocolate?

“What is that?”

As if in answer, Ethos descended the stairs, looking a little worse for wear with violet shadows under his eyes, but he brightened at the sight of Abel. “Hi! Are you getting hot chocolate too?”

Abel followed out of curiosity to the atrium, where a crowd of students was ogling a white tapestry that had been hung over the tiers above, with a movie projecting on the screen. A set of tables had been moved in to hold up a steaming container of milky brown fluid with an assortment of marshmallows, candies, syrups, and other things to garnish the beverages. Abel followed Ethos and filled a mug with the hot chocolate, piling whipped cream on it and sprinkling peppermint shavings over top. Abel peeked at Cain pouring amber fluid from a flask into his hot chocolate, but turned away when the students cheered and booed at the screen.

“What are you doing?” someone cried.

“Behind you!”

“Pay attention! You need to time the buttons right!”

Abel realized there were two students in particular whom everyone was crowded around, who were holding some sort of device.

“What are they doing?” he asked.

“It’s an impromptu video game tournament,” Ethos explained. He gazed up at the screen while stirring his chocolate. “Except I think the only game anyone had was—”

The image on the screen suddenly exploded in colorful sparks, swirls, and other graphics as the characters did battle and the audience erupted with indecipherable cheers. Ethos gaped for a moment and then added his own outcry, “You guys are using the cheat codes! This is hardly a tournament!”

Abel laughed but his inquiring eyes encouraged Ethos to explain, “If you push the buttons of the controllers in the right order, you can unlock unlimited health or magic, specialty weapons, etc.”

“Let’s get closer.” Abel carried his beverage to a row of large urns in which plants bobbed with the air currents. Sitting on the floor, he leaned his back against one of the pots and watched the game as Ethos explained things like combo attacks, the difference between ‘hp’ and ‘mp,’ and more.

Abel was wiping whipped cream from his nose when the screen sputtered and the battling characters froze. Outcries rang out, but ceased when they turned and found someone holding a cake blazing with candles.

“Calm your tits! We’ve got a birthday to celebrate and a sugar high to nurse.”

Ethos stood up with his empty mug and brushed off the seat of his pants. “I forgot it was Vicks’ birthday today.” A chorus of singing commenced but Abel could not understand the language as it climaxed with the blowing out of the candles.

“Birthday?” Abel repeated, looking between Ethos and the cutting of the cake with puzzled excitement.

Both Ethos and Cain—who had been silent since they entered the building—stared at him with puzzled shock. The former uttered, “Do you not celebrate birthdays?”

At the blank expression on Abel’s face, Ethos elaborated, “It’s the anniversary of when you were born…like…people remember what day you came into the world so they can celebrate it?”

Abel could hear the last notes of the song ringing in his memory and how every person in the atrium was laughing and carefully nudging their way to get some cake. “Oh…okay.” He lowered his attention back to his hot chocolate even though he couldn’t quite taste it anymore.

He could feel Ethos standing there, probably trying to think of something else to say but instead went to get some cake. Meanwhile, Cain watched where Abel’s eyes traveled, looking but not really seeing anything.

Ethos returned and sat down with two plates. “I thought Praxis might like a piece later.”

“How is he?” Abel queried.

“Oh he’s fine,” Ethos assured. He wiped a glob of icing from the side of his mouth. “Just, you know…getting used to being blind on one side.

Abel smiled apologetically. “I probably could have saved it, but I wasn’t thinking—”

Ethos perked up and shook his head until he swallowed enough for words. “Don’t worry about it. Eyes are more intricate than fingers anyhow; it’s not like you could have stored the eye in some snow for them to pop back in later. It might have already been useless. Plus, who thinks clearly when they've just caught an eye with their face?”

A rough sound brought Abel’s attention to Cain, who laughed quietly. A smirk was on his lips but he said nothing. Abel could not recall a time when the man had refrained from speaking for such a length of time but he let the silence reign. When he next glanced over, however, Cain was fast asleep. He was slumped against the urn he rested against, but otherwise his hat pushed his hair over his eyes, almost disguising his soft exhalations.

The video game started playing again, and Abel watched the moving artwork with fascination. He had only seen computer programming from an objective, utilitarian view, but this was stunning and new and—

Cain slumped against his shoulder, causing Abel to lean with his weight. “Cain, you’re still heavy,” he scolded, but the only response he got was a quiet snore. Abel tried to push him back onto his urn, but Cain’s weight was too much shifted toward him, and when his hands slipped, Cain fell right onto his lap.

“Wow, he’s really conked out,” Ethos commented as Abel wiggled out from under his bony shoulders. He settled with Cain’s head on his thigh, with hardly any change in his breathing. Ethos added, “I wish I could sleep in public, but there’s too much noise and people watching.”

“I guess he hasn’t slept much…” Abel pondered aloud. Even when another battle commenced on the screen, he did not rouse during the sounds of crashing steel and loud cheers. Eventually Ethos slid his knees under himself in order to stand with his uneaten slice of cake.

“Are you staying here? I’m going to visit Praxis before this goes stale.”

“No, I’ll come,” Abel said, but this was easier said than done. He tried to gently set Cain’s head on the floor while sliding out from under him, but an arm was thrown over his lap and Abel realized the other was behind his pelvis, holding him in place. “I’ll be there in a few. Go on ahead.”

It took a bit more finagling, but Abel managed to at least rise so he was sitting back on his heels. The lift in elevation roused Cain enough to peer up through bleary eyes. “Shto ty deialesh?” he mumbled.

Abel blinked. "Huh?"

"What'hre ye doin'" Cain reiterated in English.

“Leaving. I need to drop off the sausage and then visit the medical unit.”

“Visit later,” he grumbled. “Stay here.”

“Go to your bed,” Abel rebuked. “It’s better than the floor.”

“It might as well be th’floor. ‘S too cold.”

“I told you that you should've have gotten your own sheets—”

The leather pads of Cain’s gloves pressed against his lips. “Stop talking. Stay.”

“I also need to use a bathroom,” Abel countered.

There was a pause, and then Cain reluctantly eased off of him. “Your methods are underhanded and cruel.”

“Says the jerk who was trying to get in my pants to spy on me,” Abel retorted on his feet. Cain yawned as he mirrored him, removing his hat to ruffle his hair.

“I already explained myself, you can’t hold that against me. Can I stay in your bed?”

Abel whirled around. “What? No.”

“Come on, if you’re going to suck up to Praxis then the least you could do is let me crash somewhere decent.”

They were on the stairs as Abel responded, “I’m actually going to visit one of the vampires. He might be off anesthesia today.”

“Joyful joy,” Cain sang as Abel fished for his key. The door opened and he faced Cain.

“I didn’t say you could use my bed.”

The hunter rolled his eyes. “Well I’ve got nothing better to do. Ditch the box and let’s go see the vamp, then.”

Abel shut the dormitory door behind him and partially hoped that Cain would be asleep against the wall when he emerged. Knocking a rhythm on Keeler’s door, his uncle answered with a smile and instantly said, “He’s awake! He’s got quite an appetite, too. Oh, is this it?”

Keeler opened the box and took a bite right out of a link. “Mmm…that'd be good in soup. 'Kay, let’s go. Encke's already down there.”

“Uh,” Abel began as Keeler locked the door, “Cain’s outside.”

His uncle gazed at him expectantly. “For…?”

He huffed a sigh. “I ran into him on my way out and he’s been following me all day. He’s offering to come to the medic with me unless I let him sleep in a warm bed.”

“What’s wrong with his own bed?” Keeler frowned.

“He says it’s not comfortable, or the blankets are too thin or something.”

“Hmm,” Keeler processed contemplatively. “He’s developed high standards, considering…”

Abel’s features opened. “Considering what?”

Keeler shrugged the matter away. “Well, he’s not exactly from royal stock. He was half dead when he was found and brought to Commander Bering.”

Abel stopped him in the middle of the corridor. “Wait, what? What do you mean, half dead?”

He visibly considered whether or not it was worth saying before he relinquished, “It would mean more if he told you himself, but Cain escaped his country without a visa, passport, paperwork or permission of any kind. He was a highly sought after ballerino who apparently showed great promise, but for whatever reasons, he decided to leave, and it nearly killed him.”

The ballet bit did not surprise Abel since he had seen how Cain fought, but the rest was a crash of information. His uncle laughed and brushed his fringe out of the way of his eyes. “Don’t feel sorry for him. His resilience is obviously his best feature.”

When they exited the dormitory, Cain was waiting with his shoulder against the wall. He acquiesced a nod at Keeler before following down the levels to the academy’s hospital. Praxis was awake and bandaged, but he seemed to be enjoying the cake with Ethos for company. Abel waved at him but saw the man’s eye move between him and Cain, so he saved a proper conversation for a later date. Keeler led the way into the hallway of private rooms and stopped in front of one in which a cooler of blood bags was waiting outside the door. Abel glanced inside the large window at the person lying in the bed, but did a double take.

“Is that him?”

Keeler guffawed, “He cleans up nice, doesn’t he?”

 _I’ll say…_ he thought. The young man’s head lifted, eyes bright and searching for him after hearing his thought. Abel felt downright embarrassed walking in with his rosy cheeks, mussed hair, and winter gear that he had yet to remove. The man’s silver eyes calmed at the sight of him, revealing just how groggy he was from narcotics. His grin had a hole where his tooth had been, but his rich black hair fell near his eyes, while his undercut allowed for a clear view of his neck.

“They told me your name is Abel,” he greeted, that toothy smile lingering on his face. He extended a hand, palm up. Abel’s eyes dropped to the veins there, but looked away as he shook his hand. “I’m Helios.”

A half-empty blood bad rested on his abdomen while a flexible tube returned to his mouth. Abel’s gaze caught on the crimson swimming through it, disappearing between his lips—

“How are you feeling?” he breathed.

“Almost better,” Helios replied. “I keep asking for them to bring my partner up here, but no one will listen to me.”

Keeler sighed, “Because all of the other vampires in captivity are rogue. You’re the only one who’s bounced back.”

A darkness eclipsed Helios’ eyes, like a storm descending out of nowhere. “He needs me. That’s why he isn’t acting right. I’m his partner. He needs me.”

“You’ve said that. About a hundred times.” All heads turned toward Encke entering the room. “You’re like a broken record. We can’t just open each unit to see if one of them recognizes you.”

“You only need to open one,” Helios countered sternly. “I know which one he’s in.”

Keeler and Encke glanced at each other, only their eyes moving. “What is his name?” the former inquired.

Helios gulped and slid the straw out of his mouth to answer, “That doesn’t matter. You can just let me down there with the key if you’re so uncomfortable _with it._ ”

Helios’ words ended in a hush, his body shivering. Abel’s gaze widened and his lips parted in concern; he looked to Keeler for instruction but found a similar expression, only his was in wonder instead of worry. “He’s calling to you now?” his uncle asked.

Helios nodded in a way that could have also been a shake of his head. “Not as much… The sun will be setting soon, but he’s an early riser…”

“Do you need help standing?” Keeler offered, surprising the whole room.

“Kee,” Encke rebuked firmly.

But he wasn’t listening. Helios took him up on the offer and already had his feet hanging over the side of the cot.

“Kee, he hasn’t been authorized for mobility,” Encke insisted.

“I authorize him,” he replied, holding Helios’ hands while he wiggled his pelvis to the edge of the bed. “This goes beyond regular jurisdiction, and you know it.”

“If he’s not bat shit wrong,” Encke reminded pointedly. “He was rogue not ten hours ago.”

“Here,” Keeler offered. A rolling stand usually reserved for I.V. drips was pulled over, and the blood bag was hung from it. “Use it like a staff.”

Cain watched Encke rub his eyes and breathe for patience. “What’s wrong? Can’t control the wife?”

Encke glared at him. “There are more than enough units left for you to pick from,” he warned.

Helios wobbled on his feet, but he held the long straw between his lips and slurped on his way out the door. Turns out an elevator also went down to the confinement units; Cain’s muscles ached from the memory of being shoved down the stairs instead. When the doors of the lift opened, though, a much louder corridor greeted him.

Snarls and screams echoed in the hallway, but they only came from one door. It was shaking in its frame, the person captive repeatedly crashing against it while the harsh sounds of something scratching on the other side induced Abel to cover his ears. The rogue’s thrashing only seemed to heighten as they drew nearer, and Helios’ steps quickened. He tossed off Encke’s hold on him to fumble at the lever sealing the door shut.

“Open it!” he yelled.

“Are you sure?” Abel worried, eyeing the shaking door with trepidation.

His open palms started beating on the other side of the door, as if trying to meet the creature halfway. “Open it!”

Encke pushed Keeler a good measure from the door and entered a key code. The lever shot open, and the door barged with it. Cain stepped in front of Abel as a blur of movement collided with Helios. The mangy head latched on the corner of his neck and shoulder, inducing Cain to hook an arm around Abel. He could feel Abel’s fists holding the back of his coat as they watched the attack…but Helios’ arms went around the creature as if protectively, fondly.

“Don’t,” he whispered, holding a hand against Encke’s advances. “Why do you think I’ve been drinking so much?”

Encke and Keeler exchanged another glance as they watched the rogue feed. They could hear his gulps, but a thick swallow behind him brought Cain’s attention to Abel. His forehead pressed against Cain’s shoulder, trying to look away as his own fangs lengthened behind his lips. The vampire’s gulps began to slow to a less frenzied speed, and Abel ventured a peek at the nut brown fingers lifting toward Helios’ hair, the slim body pressed against his, and the tangle of white and black hair on the calming vampire’s head.

“Selene…” Helios purred. “If you take any more-ah…I won’t be able to stand…”

Cain lifted a brow. “You might need a bit more of an incentive to—”

The vampire named Selene jerked back, visibly wanting more but licked his lips and settled back on his heels…his fangs retracting.

Cain glanced over his shoulder, meeting Abel’s incredulous stare.

Selene pressed himself to Helios once more, moving him away from Encke and Keeler. The latter raised his hands defensively. “No worries. I’ve got my own.”

Encke obliged by showing the bite on his neck, and Selene calmed somewhat, but his eyes were on Abel. “He doesn’t.”

His voice was husky and sore from screaming. Cain’s fingers twitched, almost reaching for his own collar, but Deimos’ words reminded him that certain bites were only scars to these people.

“His name’s Abel,” Helios proffered. “He likes the fluffy one.”

Both Cain and Abel lurched, the former scowling. Granted, his hair defied gravity and his hat barely helped matters, but Abel’s reaction distracted him. “I don’t! No—why would you think…?” he stammered.

Helios laughed huskily while Selene licked a couple drops from his neck. He leaned deeper for more but Helios tilted his chin to meet his gaze. “Later,” he whispered, and turned back to Keeler. “Could we get him a shower?”

“That sounds like a good idea. Both of you ought to be comfortable since you’re in for a long discussion,” Keeler promised.

“Helios.” Selene’s fingers searched across his jaw, urging his lips to open. “It’s gone.”

Helios bowed his head, letting Selene examine the space between his gums. “It had to go, but it doesn’t hurt any more.” He smiled consolingly at his partner. “Don’t worry about me. We’re safe.”

Abel did his best not to contradict that statement in his thoughts. The last thing either of them needed was to be told they were out of a frying pan and into a fire.

Encke and Keeler flanked the pair as they made their way back to the elevator, but it was an uneasy ride as Abel observed Selene side-eyeing him. He felt relief when they parted ways for the vampires to clean up and feed some more. Keeler promised that he and Encke would be able to handle it, but Abel asked if he should stay.

“There’s dinner in my room or you can eat in the dining hall,” he shooed away. “We’re so close to the holidays that the rest of the week may be cancelled for an early start to the holidays. Preoccupy yourself with the festivities. I’ll relay what we learn to you tomorrow.”

When Abel hesitated, Keeler kissed his forehead. “You’re not used to a nocturnal schedule. You don’t have to stay up for us. Come find me or call me if you need anything.”

“I need to talk to you…later, I mean. It can wait after this,” he assured.

Keeler laughed. “It will be a long chat if all goes well here. There are brownies in my oven.”

Abel’s brow furrowed. Why would Keeler leave something in the oven? Cain had since disappeared, so he made his way upstairs and bent double to find a glass pan in Keeler’s oven.

“God, it’s the month of sugar,” he muttered after tasting a square of chocolate. A glimpse of white caught his eye, and he saw the box he’d brought back on the table. “This is a bad idea,” he scolded, opening the box. He had meant to have Keeler and Encke with him when he tried it…but he’d done well today hadn’t he? After yesterday and today, he had not lost control near open blood, and the sausage was cooked and probably tasted as bad as the blood bags…

Abel sniffed a link. It certainly did not smell like blood. More like onions, spices, and just meat. He took a bite, and froze. He chewed some, and coughed after a swallow. “That’s a lot of onion…”

He found some bread, a pungent cheese, and other bits Keeler had mentioned for dinner. It was a while before he ought to eat dinner, but the sausage went down more easily with other flavors to dilute the onion. Piling everything on a plate and putting away the rest, he returned to his room and brought Tantos to the bed for feeding before diving into his own meal—

_Bang. Bang. Bang… Bang. Bang._

The iguana hissed while Abel's fork froze in midair. He warily stood and opened the door with a mouthful of sausage, only to get pushed out of the way of a large box. The contents rattled harshly when Cain set it down and looked around. “I see you haven't gotten a television.”

“Huh?” he exclaimed dumbly.

Of all things, Cain pulled out a small, but flat screen which he propped against the wall. “Since you haven’t a clue how old you are, I’ve got to close the generation gap. Fortunately for you, there are only four games you really need to know: _Mario Cart, Kingdom Hearts, Skyrim,_ and _Grand Theft Auto._ ”

All Abel could do was gape as Cain began connecting cords between a pair of consoles, multiple controllers, and the television. “But—where did you even—isn’t the dorm locked?”

“The supply closet at the end of the hall isn’t,” Cain replied tersely. He suddenly stood erect and looked Abel directly in the eyes. “And if you tell anyone I’ve got these I won’t guarantee your safety.”

Abel’s brows shot to his hairline. “Are they expensive?”

“To me,” he responded.

“What does that mean?”

“It means these are all I own, all right? Now shut up and pick a player.”

He obediently sat on the floor with his plate on his lap and grasped the controller. Cain pointed to each button with a quick explanation: “This is the toggle to move around. That button moves you forward. This is reverse, and the rest don’t matter for this game. Different games have different commands for the buttons but we’ll get to those later. Don’t go until the countdown is finished, or a tire will blow.”

“Why are there individual characters?” Abel stammered around a bite of meat.

Cain peered at him and then picked something off of the plate for himself. “Because they come from another game. Don’t worry about their backstory.”

“Does it matter which character I choose?”

“No.”

“What about—”

“Just _pick,_ ” he curtailed. “You can learn specifics later.”

“But are those manuals—” he began, pointing at the remnants of the box.

“You don’t need the manual, you have me. Just trust me, and avoid bananas and turtle shells.”

Abel had no idea what he meant by that but since it was Cain, he had learned it was better to learn as he went. Especially since digital bananas and turtle shells became the worst of his troubles that evening.The first thing that happened was the girl in pink threw a blue turtle shell at him. Cain was practically rolling with laughter, but Abel was a quick learner, and Cain was not laughing when he was beat four times in a row. When Abel left to retrieve Keeler's brownies, he returned to find a new game waiting for him."But we just started that one."

"Clearly Mario is too simple for you," Cain responded. "I should have taken into consideration that I was playing with an idiot genius."

"That's an oxymoron," Abel pointed out, settling once more on the floor with Tantos across his shoulders.

"And it applies," Cain seconded, but he was not prepared for how easily Abel wielded a keyblade. The giggles that erupted from him as he flew around the Gummi ship, however, as if he was literally flying in his element, eased Cain's grief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-da! Selene and Helios cameo! :)
> 
> Also, this is totally a strange mash-up of reality and fiction with Cain escaping the Soviet Union haha Just go with it, but if you haven't seen the film White Knights, I highly recommend it if you want to see an homage to Russian ballet and Harlem tap dancing.
> 
> Also, don't hate me if your favorite video game isn't listed lol school's kept me painfully behind on games.


	8. A Good Distraction

A tickly sensation crawled up Cain’s chest, inducing his eyes to open and view a certain iguana lounging on his sternum. He squinted at the flurries on the television screen they had failed to turn off before passing out on the bed. Dumping Tantos onto the floor, he turned his back to the screen, trying to retreat back to slumber only to face a set of toes sticking out of the comforter…which was not being shared. Cain realized the negligence of the heating system in this room was what actually woke him, and he glared at Abel bundled in the blankets with his head on the opposite end of the bed.

One of his knees creaked when he stood from the bed to power off the television, but upon returning to the bed, he tickled Abel’s toes. “Mm.” The sound was almost inaudible from beneath the mountain of bedclothes. Cain tickled again, and the feet shot under cover. “Hmm…”

Sighing, Cain grasped the area where Abel’s shoulders should be and pulled him around so his head and feet were aligned accordingly with the head and end of the bed. Cain flicked the switch on the heating dial to turn the sheets on, and spared a final moment to put Tantos back in his cage.

“Bah! Huhhh…” Abel shivered when Cain’s feet made contact with his own. The plush comforter and sheets took some finagling to open, but once Cain unlocked Abel’s heat, he yanked him over as close as he could. It wasn’t until Cain felt the softness of a cheek on his clavicle that he realized Abel was facing him, but he was still sound asleep.

“No biting,” Cain murmured, giving his cheek a poke before he too lost consciousness…

********

No biting, _Abel reminded himself as the puppy licked his cheek. He giggled profusely, but the sound was foreign in his throat; bubbly yet broken. His pale, skinny fingers reached forward, trying to pet the dog but its energy had it wiggling all over the cold stone floor. Its back half did not quite want to synchronize with its front half, which resulted in more laughs that ended in coughs from Abel’s dry throat._

_“They might give us water now that you’re here,” he said, gathering the small creature onto his lap. Abel’s hands trembled, as unused to movement as his voice was to laughter. His head bowed, mixing his white tresses with the pale retriever’s. “You’re much warmer than this place.”_

_And it was. The puppy’s heart was beating_ pum pum pum pum pum _in what sounded and felt like a thousand times per minute. Small as it was, it tackled Abel onto his back, and took advantage to lick all over his face and ears. “Hey, hey, that’s not fair,” he laughed._

_The silly creature flopped off of him and explored the room while Abel made his way to the wall and slumped against it. Soon the retriever traipsed its way over to him and climbed onto his lap once more to escape the brisk floor._

_“I’m sorry it’s cold,” he apologized, petting its head. The puppy crawled higher on his chest, as if seeking the best place of warmth. “They put me in here because I was bad, I think. That’s all they ever tell me; they’re not really good at explaining anything. I don’t know what you did to make Dad angry, but at least we’ll keep each other warm.”_

_Abel did not know how long he prattled on for. It was nice to have someone to talk to, but sleep came naturally in this place. Sleep was all there was to do, so Abel knew he had fallen into its embraces when he opened heavy lids and found the puppy lying in his arms, its soft fur pressed against his face._

_But it wasn’t asleep._

_Abel lurched back only to take the body with him. “Ahm! Mmhm!” he cried, trying to unhook the fur from his teeth but only succeeding in tearing it. Such a small thing landed unsettlingly hard on the floor. Something crusty rubbed against his face while rusty flakes fell to the floor. Abel’s hand searched his face and felt dried blood across his mouth. He hastily tried to rub it away, scratching at his face while the dog continued to lie there motionless—_

_A hand entered his vision, significantly larger and more robust-looking than his own, which snatched the corpse off the floor as if it were merely laundry. Abel stared up into the features of his father which only seemed to ever hold two expressions: stern and stoic. He could see neither, though, as his father strode toward the open metal door, but Abel was too overrun by stimuli to appreciate its unlocked state. A unique odor was threading its way into the room, the freshness of air and rain. His father’s heartbeat thrummed like the puppy’s had, just as strong albeit more slowly._

_“Dad,” Abel rasped. His back was sore as he tried to get up but he felt better than he had in hours, days…weeks? “Dad—”_

_He rotated just as Abel managed to get to his feet; he stumbled and clutched at his father’s clothes to keep steady, but one of those large hands gripped the side of his neck. Abel felt his thumb digging into the underside of his chin, but his father held him steady as Abel tried to lift his chin, his head swimming with the rush of blood. “Can I go now?” he murmured brokenly._

_“Go?” the man repeated. “Go where after this?” He lifted the mass of fur in his other hand but Abel’s eyes were straying over his father’s face, as displeased as ever. Abel knew he was angry by the surprising amount of heat seeping out of his stiff coat, drawing his eyes to his throat while the pulse in his thumb beat against Abel’s budding adams apple. “This was a test, you vacuous boy, and you failed. You drained this animal dry while completely unconscious. How can we allow you to cohabit outside?”_

_“But I didn’t know it was a test!” Abel defended. “I wouldn’t have done it if I stayed awake! I’m so hungry, I didn’t mean to—”_

_“Exactly,” his father snapped, knocking Abel’s hands off so he fell hard on his knees. “You never mean to do anything, your hunger completely rules you. You’re going to be responsible for our family’s fate. Have you any notion of what will happen if you step out there without any control? This goes beyond our family name, our reputation, our embarrassment, because that was all shot to hell when you were conceived. We’ve fallen so low as to create_ you _, an abomination to humans and vampires alike. Humans will torture you. Vampires will treat you like this dog. Your mother and I—”_

_“That’s your fault, isn’t it?” Abel all but whispered, but it was enough to bring his father’s words to a halt. “You and your sis—”_

_He collapsed fully to the floor, his hands over his head and his body curled protectively as his father loomed over him. “We did what was necessary,” he growled. “You would have a sibling if you hadn’t proven such a disaster. Perhaps it’s best that our bloodline ends with you; we’ll have it end on the highest note possible. Our enemies may do as they wish but you will not be how we fall.”_

_His steps receded, and Abel ventured to lift his head as the door began to swing closed. “No, Dad! Please! It’s freezing in here!”_

_The door shut loudly, with finality._

_“Dad!” he screamed, already shivering as warmth faded from the room. He wiped tears from his cheeks, reminded of the dried blood on his face. Shame crashed over him, realizing how he must have looked in his father’s eyes: a skinny thing with eyes too wide and fangs too long who treated everything with a pulse like an oasis in a desert._

_Crawling back to his place by the wall, Abel curled into himself, shivering as the frigid scent of ice mixed with the metallic bite of the door. He could feel his torso rocking in uneven lurches, but his mind was already receding back into unconsciousness. Whether he spoke aloud or in his dreams, he could not tell. “It’s cold…why does it have to be cold…I’m hungry. I didn’t mean it…I never would have…It’s not my fault…”_

“… ‘s cold…” he mumbled as he rocked so far his face smushed against something foreign and hot, fleshy…

He startled awake and found Cain sound asleep beside him, his black tresses splashed across the pillow while his nose scrunched under his neon blue fringe. It took a long moment for Abel’s dream to fade, but between the sheet blooming with heat and the blaze that was Cain, he was able to look through his skylight at the darkest hour before dawn with a clear gaze.

Cain’s nose twitched again as Abel swiped his hair off of his face and then wiggled free of the comforter. Abel managed to get his gawky limbs off the bed without waking Cain, and then gathered a platter of greens for when Tantos was ready to eat. He sprayed water on the moss rocks underneath the overgrown bonsai tree the iguana had claimed as his perch, and found a couple slices of mango to add to the platter before he dressed and left Cain to his recuperation. He glanced to Keeler’s side of the corridor and chose to inspect the closet Cain mentioned. Sure enough, behind the mops was another door into a separate dorm, but Abel retreated and went the normal route to the library.

But not the school’s library. His foot left the final tread of the stairs and he circled around to the underside of the staircase where a vase of flowers stood sentinel on a table beside an innocent looking storage closet, however it revealed a new set of stairs into the bowels underneath the school. The only part of the school this deep underground was the confinement unit, whose conscious occupants were creating an echo of thumps in the stairwell from their efforts to escape.

Abel descended to a landing where a tall door awaited. Based on the state of the wood and its elaborate, medieval bracings, Abel guessed it was a part of the original structure during or soon after the war. The hinges were surprisingly well oiled, though, and he entered a dark interior. Keeler had shown him a table immediately to the left on which rested a series of LED lights, candles, matches, lanterns, and any other source of light one could possibly need, however there was also a switch on the wall that illuminated the entire library with a soft light to preserve the records.

Traversing the stone floor, Abel passed the round lights set into the ground and the balustrades standing between the bookcases—“Oh!”

Selene glanced up at him from the table set between the aisle of books, an open tome nearly taking up the entire piece of furniture. “Good morning, Abel.”

Abel turned the light stick off. “How are you down here? No one’s supposed to know about this library.”

He noticed that Selene’s eyes were a unique shade of silvery-green. “Keeler brought me here. He thought it deserving of a member of the family…distant, though I am.”

“That’s why your fangs can retract,” Abel reiterated. “What bloodline are you from?”

Selene pushed a lock of hair that faded from black to white behind his ear. “No idea. I’m fairly certain my great-grandfather was half, but whatever I’ve got was enough to put me in a laboratory cage. This place is a significant improvement.”

Abel was not sure how to respond. “An actual cage?”

The smirk on Selene’s face was unexpected. “More like a stuffy cubicle, I admit, but I can’t say I remember too much of it. Keeler’s already heard all of this and left me to investigate on my own while they speak with Helios. Don’t let me trouble you.”

“You’re not bothering me,” he quickly assured, but when he looked up for the book he usually perused through, it was missing from the shelves. He glanced again at the table and realized Selene was reading it.

He smiled again. “I guess you’re as curious as me.”

“How’d you know what book I was reading?”

“You leave a trail in the dust when you pull the book out,” Selene explained. “What is it you’re lost on?”

Abel’s gaze left the telltale trench in the dust on the shelf to pull out the chair opposite Selene. He sighed, “Everything, really.”

A light laugh came from the other side of the table. “You and I are high hopes for our race.”

A smile tugged on Abel’s mouth but it quickly faded. “If you don’t mind repeating it, how did you and Helios get captured? And by whom?”

Selene shrugged. “Helios remembers better than I do. They drained me of blood so I was unconscious or incoherent the entire time.”

He huffed a breath and shoved the book in Abel’s direction. “And this thing hasn’t helped me in the least. Maybe it can do more for you.”

“What are you looking for?” Abel asked, flipping to the threadbare silk marker.

Selene waved a hand in the air as he spoke. “Anything explaining why I had a target on my back. The only things that ever distinguished me from other vampires were my teeth. I’ll freely admit my hair’s a bit abnormal but you and Keeler are not waltzing around with two-toned hair.”

Abel peered over the extensive family tree he had marked for a later date. “Unfortunately, I’ve been beginning to think that one of the hunters knows about this library, or there is some other registry of us that exists and they’re tracking us one by one.”

Selene made a scoffing noise but nothing else, as if this neither surprised him or he had grown accustomed to his predicament. Abel peeked at him and ventured to ask, “Why are you fine with me now? Is it because Helios isn’t here?”

“Yes,” he answered bluntly, catching Abel off guard. Reading his expression, Selene elaborated, “Don’t take it too personally. I’ve got a possessive streak, and you have more of the original blood than I do. If you were to call out to a vampire, they would answer more readily to you than me.”

Abel frowned. “Call out? With my mind?”

He shrugged again, his arms crossed over his chest while he lounged in his chair. “If you want, or when you’re hungry. Helios says he knows when I need blood because I call for him. Another trait of our species, I guess.”

Abel recalled the moment in the medical unit when Keeler and Encke shared a glance as Helios shuddered. “It is. I was there when you called him. That was when Keeler knew.”

His eyes wandered over the pages until he realized Selene was watching him. He looked up into keen eyes. “Keeler and his partner knew…but you did not. You’ve never had a blood relationship?”

Abel’s lips parted to speak, but then he shut again. He tried to swallow but his throat was dry. “No, but…I share with someone now, but I’ve never had need to call him.”

Selene’s brows lowered. “This isn’t the man from before…Cain?”

Abel rolled his eyes with embarrassment. “Definitely not, although he might say differently.”

One of those brows lifted. “He has the presence of a hunter. That would be a curious pairing. Who is your partner, then?”

Abel was not sure if he should reveal who, but there was something incredibly satisfying about speaking with someone in a similar position as him. “Keeler…he’s my uncle.”

Selene’s expression opened, but with intent contemplation. “That isn’t possible. At least…it certainly goes against convention. Your uncle must love you.”

This made Abel frown. “Why wouldn’t he?”

Selene seemed to be the one surprised this time. “Because Encke is his. When Keeler gives you his blood, he is giving you Encke’s. I may have a possessive streak but this goes beyond my own preferences. A vampire of progenitor blood focuses his attention and needs on a partner, and that person is off limits to all others. If you don’t believe me, everything I’m saying is in that red one.”

He pointed to the bookshelf and Abel found the cracked, red spine of the volume he was referencing. Pulling it out, Abel read the Latin impression on the leather cover. “ _The Love in Blood_?” Abel translated, more than skeptical.

Selene proffered his characteristic shrug and smile. “Our ancestors were romantic, what can I say? You should read it. The point is, Keeler isn’t truly your partner, because he is Encke’s, and Encke is Keeler’s. Vampires have gone mad by drinking from more than one source, and having a chain of partners was one of the first stigmas created against our kind.”

Abel stared at him, impressed. He couldn’t have been down here for more than a few hours, but he was already more knowledgeable ten times over. Selene must have read this on his face because he consoled, “All of this will be easier to understand when you have your own partner. The connection you’ll share can’t be summed up in a book. When you’re with someone who completes you…there’s no better feeling in the world. But explain this to me: why isn’t Cain your partner?”

If Abel had been drinking something he would have spewed. “Wha-Because—”

“Stop,” Selene held up a hand. “You’re talking to me, not some school gossiper. One of the reasons you’re so tense is because you haven’t attached yourself to a stable source. I wasn’t blind last night. He was protecting you and you trusted him to do so. What more are you looking for in a partner?”

Abel did not have a ready response. Since Cain had stopped smoking, to say he was appetizing was an understatement, and as he thought about it, Abel realized that Cain made him laugh. As obnoxious as he could be, being in Cain’s company had its perks. Plus he could cook. But…

“I don’t trust him…not really… He’s a hunter, and the favorite of his commander, who knows what I am. He claims he doesn’t want to be a puppet but my position is too sensitive to let myself be dependent on him.”

Selene’s expression hardened. “Is this commander here?”

Abel realized his mistake, but he was too far to reestablish the sense of security. “Yes.”

Far from anger, Selene’s reaction was intellectual. “Do you and Keeler not feel threatened? Is there some kind of power balance between hunters and vampires, like their armaments and your numbers cancel each other out? Or do you…” His features calmed as he deduced, “You’re here by your own choice, for each other as well as the other vampires.”

Abel’s fingers fiddled with the edges of the book as he said, “I’m sure once you and Helios have fully recovered, Keeler will find a way to get you out. This isn’t your problem. I mean, god, Helios had his tooth broken. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through but it’s enough for a vampire’s lifetime.”

Selene chuckled and propped his chin on his hand. “Yeah, but he’ll be fine. I kind of like the gap, it’s cute.”

Abel laughed with him but he could not help but ask, “You’re not more concerned about this?”

Selene shrugged. “As I said, it’s an improvement from where we were. Helios has medical care and we can feed whenever we want. There’s something immensely satisfying about being near you, too. Throw in Keeler and it’s like having a crackling fireplace on both sides.”

Abel was not sure what expression he was wearing but based on Selene’s smirk, he guessed it was comical. “Really? That’s what it feels like being with us?”

One of those eyebrows switched. “When you’re not eyeing Helios.”

Abel looked away like a chastised puppy. “I don’t mean to look at him in that way. He’s kind, and it wasn’t his fault he was in physical and mental pain.”

“All I’m saying is that the sooner you make contact with Cain’s neck—” His attention turned upwards, as if he could see through into the rooms of the school. “Helios is missing me. When the dawn rises he won’t be able to sleep without me.”

As he stood and pushed in his chair, Abel stalled, “So the calling works both ways?”

Selene wore an expression as if this was no big deal, something innate and not worth discussing. “I know his needs. He takes care of me in so many ways, it’s my job to reciprocate.”

He took several steps toward the exit before he doubled back, surprising Abel with a hand on his shoulder. “I said that incorrectly. I _want_ to take care of him, and he wants to take care of me. Your partner should be your best friend…whomever that is.”

Abel heard his steps fade and the closing of the door behind him as he was left alone with hundreds of books that may or may not tell him everything to do with blood partners. As he situated both books for reading, however, Abel felt like he needed to firstly research himself most of all.

********

Cain awoke with the utterly lost feeling of time inoperative. He couldn’t say whether it was noon on a Tuesday or nine in the morning of a Saturday of next year. This vacuous feeling was startled anew by the absence of something else—or rather, someone else. Cain sat up as if this would help him further see how Abel was no longer in the bed with him. Scrubbing a hand over his face and the side of his head where his hair was flattened by the pillow helped to ground him more in the present. The loud crunching from the terrarium brought his attention to the iguana languidly tearing through a plate of green and orange things.

Cain sat up fully and shook his head, fluffing his hair all the more as he gathering himself. When that did not seem to work he trudged to the bathroom for a shower and eased the kinks of his spine under the fall of water from the ceiling spout. The shampoo opened with a pop, and his eyes finally opened with clarity. His lips curved in smile as he recognized the smell from Abel’s hair. Then he had another part of him awaken.

“Hmph, it’s been a while,” he mused, giving his hard length a stroke. He inhaled fully, the warm floral scent with its dash of citrus filling his lungs, and sighed long and heavily. The orgasm was quick but lackluster. “I prefer another person for this.”

He flicked the water to cold and was out within minutes. On the floor rested the unfinished tin of brownies, which he made his breakfast before licking his fingers on his way out the door. He was hardly down the dormitory stairs when Anna collided with him. “There you are! Goddamn, we’ve been looking everywhere for you, dumb ass. We’ve got a mission that we were supposed to be on five hours ago.”

Swallowing the last of his brownie, Cain was yanked toward the lobby. “Get off,” he freed himself from her hold. “What mission?”

“We’ve gotta clear out all the rogues that put the school in a breach, genius,” she taunted. “It’s easy tracking and execution. They’re likely still in the area--you look like you just woke up,” she realized.

“Yeah,” he retorted, adjusting the collar of his coat she’d tugged out of place. “And I’m not interested in killing sitting ducks. What kind of sport is that?”

Anna stared at him, aghast. “All that sleep’s gone to your head. What the hell’s the matter with you that you don’t want to do your job? Have you got anything better to do?”

Cain considered that, and realized with stunning clarity what he would be doing if she hadn’t found him: looking for Abel. Or eating. Finding Abel and then dragging him back to that tavern. Two birds.

Anna’s hand lifted to flick his forehead but he caught her fist. “Well at least there’s still matter beneath your hair,” she scoffed. “You coming or not? We’ll have to report your absence.”

He groaned and strode after her. Keeping up an exercise regimen was not the worst, but alerting Bering to a change in activity might be.

********

Abel’s stomach growled. Rubbing his abdomen, he focused harder on the book, promising himself to eat soon. He wanted to know Selene’s great-grandfather’s name so he might find Selene’s family line, but he was having enough of a challenge with his own. He suspected ‘Ethaniel’ was a strategic name change during the war, or his family was not in this book, or it was simply so old that he could not sort through all of his ancestors. Even though the faded ink became more opaque as he flipped through more recent entries, they ceased sometime three centuries ago.

“Ugh,” he exhaled, heaving the tome back into its place on the shelf. The red book remained on the table. Abel scowled at the title and wiggled the book in the air, disapproving of the red coloring. “I think we get the point,” he sighed and opened to the first page. He was surprised to find a very old form of French instead of Latin written within.

_A recollection of the ineffable intricacies of our blood relations, both pure and remote…_

Abel frowned. ‘Pure and remote’? Was that a reference between progenitors and regular vampires? Based on the first sentence of the book itself, he guessed so: _Contrary to ideal belief, an original vampire is more suitably paired with a vampire of humbler origins. The contrary results in power struggles or unsatisfied needs that a pure and remote pairing could otherwise fulfill…_

He flipped through until he was past the dynamics of purebloods. Fortunately it was a mere twenty pages of an otherwise four hundred page volume. And the title of the section roughly translated to, _Prey and Courtship._

Abel’s eyelids dropped to half-mast. Instead of wondering what that could possibly mean, he chose to read on. _More often than not, one of original blood connects with another of similar roots out of necessity, however left to natural devices, the process of courtship is more alike with a predator and prey’s dalliances, although it is often contests whom is the predator and whom is the prey. It has been collectively agreed upon that it all begins with a look, a sighting, a need to be fulfilled and the finding of one who can satisfy it._

_Where the prey dynamic ends, however, is in the interdependency between partners. While a vampire who walks in the light may also eat food, blood is the true source of life, an appetite the earth’s fruits will never quench. One of true blood needs a partner whom he or she can trust, for more reasons than dietary needs. The most vulnerable moments are when a vampire is feeding, and it falls on the source to protect the vampire from both themself and other threats._

Abel’s stomach fell deeper in his abdomen as Selene’s words returned to him. Keeler was being incredibly kind, sharing his and therefore Encke’s blood with him, but also through putting himself in danger in order to feed Abel. Encke was skilled but being the guardian of two progenitors was hardly doing any favors to his stress levels.

_In return, one values and protects their blood source. It is not uncommon for gifts to be bestowed on one’s partner, the most highly sought being the reciprocation of blood—_

Abel froze as a loud buzzing shattered his peace of mind. It took a long minute to figure out that it was his phone vibrating. Keeler was asking if he was awake and to come to his room. Abel replied that he would be there soon and marked his place in the book before shutting off the lights and climbing back up to the school. He listened at the door before he ventured out without being seen. When Abel knocked on his uncle’s door, he was shocked anew by being encompassed in a hug. “Um, bad news?” he mumbled into his uncle’s shoulder.

Encke nudged them deeper into the room in order to shut the door while Keeler explained in his ear, “The walls are too thin, so we’ll have to whisper.”

“He’s taking background noise seriously,” Encke murmured.

Keeler released him and Abel saw that he was midway though making dinner already, but just about every pot or pan he owned was on the floor. He briefly noticed two open laptops on the table as he inhaled the savory aroma of miso broth and saw a kaleidoscope of colorful vegetables chopped on the counter, however Keeler seemed to make a point of knocking into every piece of kitchenware to stifle his words. “Long story short: yes, Helios delivered bad news. Good news: we’re moving them to a safe location tonight, with yours and Cain’s help.”

Abel looked at the computers again, feeling his veins run thin as his blood pressure somersaulted. He didn’t have to ask to know that Cain had not been informed, nor how he would despise not having a choice in the matter.

********

Cain was ready for another shower by the time he marched up the semicircular stairs of the academy and through the lobby. People moved out of his way, correctly interpreting his energy as anger and wanting no part in it. He was hungry, parched, pretty sure he had pulled at least four muscles, could feel a stain of blood and something that smelled suspiciously of urine seeping through to his backside…just about the only perk to the evening was that they did not have to wait around and hunt rogues who were waking up for the night. He briefly debated whether to bathe or eat first, but his feet were already on the hunt for a food source. However, he was begrudgingly intercepted by none other than Helios.

“Hey there!”

“Tfft,” Cain sneered, his stomach officially stabbing him with needles. Helios and his stupid, chipper, holey grin were not helping.

“Woah, you really don’t take greetings well,” Helios observed.

“Yeah yeah, hi. Mission accomplished,” Cain hurried. “You done?”

That grin flashed again as he rotated and moved alongside Cain. “I’ll talk while you eat. You’ll need it.”

Cain’s boots halted where they were. “Why?” he growled. Helios’ eyes slid over, and Cain knew Deimos was beside him. “Got something to say, _myshonok_?” he hurried.

But when Deimos did not respond, he realized it was not him the small man was interested in, but Helios. If Cain had a utensil, he might have cut the staring contest between them and eaten it. As for now, he and his stomach were out of patience. “For fuck’s sake,” he cursed, returning to his original path.

Not a second later, Helios was beside him. “Oh? You two finish eye-fucking each other? Careful, that partner of yours won’t approve.”

Helios baffled him by guffawing. Cain glanced at Deimos on his other side only to find that the man was gone. Helios reclaimed his attention with, “I get it. We’re all cranky when we’re starving. Selene and I would understand best of all, right?”

Cain could not refute that, so he remained silent as they entered the cafeteria. To his relief, the specialty tonight was mandu dumplings, so he piled about fifty of them in a take away box, filling his cheeks on his way back to the atrium. Helios had gone silent, causing Cain to glance at him. “Are you even allowed to wander like this?”

Helios licked between the gap in his teeth as he nodded. “Sure. I’m not rogue anymore, but if you observe closely…”

He went quiet again, and while he did not look anywhere in particular, Cain caught the subtle glance a hunter gave him here…another there. Casual movements of the eye that would go unnoticed to the untaught. Helios finished, “…one’s freedom is not defined by the stretch of their legs. Watch your words out here. Still, I’m sorry to leave so soon.”

Cain paused again, inferring his meaning and sighing hard through his nose. “This smells like Abel’s scheme.”

Helios’ brows lifted innocently. “No, Keeler’s. But great minds think alike. Did you know that Abel completed this place’s entrance program practically overnight? And he and Keeler rewrote the school’s computer security just like an hour ago—”

They started up the stairs as the box shut over his dinner with a crisp snap. “Fantastic. What do I have to do with any of this?”

This time, Helios’ grin was not so innocent. He stepped closer than Cain usually got without a drink and whispered. “You need to distract that commander of yours.”

Cain bared his teeth with disgust. The last person he felt like interacting with was Bering. “Why doesn’t Abel or Keeler ask me themselves?”

Helios resumed normal spacial boundaries as he shrugged. “I got to you first, and I had a question. I saw your scar when your collar sagged yesterday. Is it Abel’s?”

Cain was suddenly hyper aware of his turtle neck and high coat collar shielding his throat. “Occupational hazard. What of it?”

The look in Helios’ eyes said he was not buying it, but he played it off, “I’m just like trying to figure out why a key won’t work in its lock.”

Cain’s expression was caught somewhere between deadpan and utterly puzzled. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Helios laughed. “Just keep eating. Maybe once your jet has fuel you’ll get it.”

He chose to let the matter rest and picked up his pace toward the dorms. Helios followed curiously through the storage closet and peered around the faculty corridor as Cain pummeled Abel’s door. Abel’s expression was less than surprised until he saw Helios, but was caught against Cain’s hand pushing him back into the room.

“Helios? Where’s Selene—ew, Cain,” he exclaimed, covering his nose as the dumpling box landed on the bed.

“We’ll talk in a minute,” Cain intercepted, already heading for the shower.

The bathroom door shut behind him and Abel faced Helios, whose mind seemed elsewhere. When he realized Abel was watching, his looked up and answered. “Selene’s with Encke.”

Abel realized the direction Helios must have been looking was where his partner was. “Ah…yeah, he mentioned that you could sort of…telepathically…” he gestured from his head into the air.

Helios laughed. “Sure, like our own personal radio wave, but it took a lot to get to where we are.”

Abel blinked. “Really? You seem to work so well together.”

“So? You’re brilliant, but it’s not like you’re not stumped by some equation every now and then, right?”

Abel huffed a laugh, his attention inadvertently listening to the shower running. “Yeah, some real stubborn ones.”

He could hear Helios’ smile in his tone. “Don’t worry, he’s not the enigma you think he is.”

Abel’s eyes returned to him. “What?”

Helios looked to the ceiling. “Selene mentioned you were clueless…Cain isn’t any better. But even hunters can be frightened. Just be patient with him. You’ll be amazed by how much… _sinks in_ once you get started.”

Abel’s gaze was blunt, not sure if he should take that as a reference to feeding, a sexual innuendo, or something else altogether.

The man himself interrupted, letting a cloud of steam out of the bathroom as he dried his hair. “I’ve had one hell of a day. For a pair of geniuses, you and Keeler better have something more than the shitty idea I’ve heard about.”

However, Abel heard his words as if from far away, somehow at a greater distance than the sculpted, bare torso before him. Cain had redressed in his thermal leggings but left his soiled shirt and coat in the bathroom; his actual trousers hung from his elbow, leaving nothing to the imagination. Whether Abel was just looking for someplace else to anchor his gaze or for Helios’ confirmation, the vampire’s side-eye was joined by a smirk, and Abel quickly turned away from them both. “The plan’s already in motion. You’re the backup.”

Cain grimaced. “Depending on however many hunters Bering has keeping tabs on these two, I can’t keep them all preoccupied while you lot sneak them out.”

Abel laughed, but something in it wiped Cain’s features and replaced them with suspicious concern. Abel revealed, “It won’t be up to you to keep them distracted. You just have to make sure Bering doesn’t call in any other hunters.”

Cain was not feeling any better about this. He strode forward and turned Abel’s chin so he was forced to make eye contact. “I don’t like this, _zolotse._ You should have consulted with me first. What are you planning?”

Abel’s parted lips pressed together as he sniffled, and Cain realized against his hot fingers from the shower, Abel’s face was cold. He’d been outside. “You’re not going to like it.”

Cain sighed, which he knew was not the last time he would do so today. “I already knew that, genius, but tell me how much of a pain in the ass this will be for me.”

So he did, and for the second time since learning Abel was a vampire, Cain was genuinely shocked. “You’re fucking shitting me.”

Abel did that nervous laugh again while scratching his scalp. “We need a good distraction. I think about thirty rogues will do it.”

********

“Come in.”

Deimos silently slid into the massive office. Commander Cook looked up from his large computer screen with keen, warm eyes. “Good evening, Deimos. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The vampire’s arctic blue eyes glanced at the door leading to the man’s personal chambers. “The two under surveillance.”

“Helios and Selene,” Cook nodded. “You may use their names.”

A moment of silence passed. Cook waited patiently for Deimos to gather his words. “What is to be done with them?”

Cook smiled and stood from his desk. “I imagine certain members of our beloved institution are already hard at work relocating them to a more secure, less volatile place.”

He rounded the desk, his stance relaxed, totally at home in his office, his rooms, his academy. He leaned back on the edge of his desk as he continued, “Are you really concerned for them or are you unsure what to report to Bering?”

Again, Deimos was silent. When his reply was not as forthcoming, Cook extended a hand. Another long minute passed as Deimos stared at it, weighing the pros and cons of taking it before he finally did. The commander pulled him gently to him, pressing a soft kiss to Deimos’ neck, but something in Deimos’ demeanor pulled him back. Cook deduced his standoffish mannerism and guessed, “What’s the matter? Something in particular is bothering you. Someone…not that hunter you’ve grown close to?”

The only indication that he was right was Deimos pressing his lips together, the focus of his eyes on Cook’s shoulders instead of his face. Nothing changed as the commander laughed, “If you want him, then take him. You have the assets to do so. I gave them to you.”

Again, the pressing of his lips. “He won’t have me.”

It was Cook’s turn for silence. He leaned close to murmur against the dark hair, “It is not his option. Do you understand?”

He kissed Deimos’ temple before waiting for a reply and just as carefully pushed him away. “Tell Bering whatever you feel he will believe. In a matter of time he will learn how few hunters he really controls.”

Deimos ducked out of the office as quickly as he’d come, right as the bedroom door opened. Phobos hugged the sheet around himself, his bedhead leaving crimps in his straight, blond hair. “Was that Deimos?”

“Yes,” Cook answered, circling back around to his seat. “He wished to have his concerns mollified.”

Phobos snorted in his throat. “I knew you chose blonds to satisfy your Abel fetish but I didn’t think you dabbled in brunettes too.”

Cook’s bright eyes locked on him in warning. “You grow bold for one who's been hiding here since that incident.”

Phobos shrugged brazenly as he approached the desk. “I don’t hear you complaining.” He swung a bare leg over the commander’s lap and settled there comfortably. “And what are these assets you gave him? Anything I should be jealous over?”

The sounds of their wet, loud kisses filled the office, the rustle of the sheet as Cook’s hands roamed over Phobos’s slim thighs and soft ass. “No,” he answered.

His eyes closed for more kisses as one of his hands wandered to his zipper, so he missed the seething glare in Phobos’s eyes.

********

“That could start a massacre!” Cain erupted, suddenly gripping Abel’s upper arms. Helios stiffened beside them, a natural reaction to a progenitor under threat. “What the hell is the point of maintaining peace if you’re just going to blow it all to hell?”

“We’re not blowing it to hell,” Abel assured with a remarkable amount of calm. His hand involuntarily splayed across Cain’s bare chest, causing his eyes to lower onto the heartbeat drumming against his palm through that warm, active body. He returned his gaze to Cain’s. “The hunters will be preoccupied with a controlled group of rogues while Selene and Helios escape, and then Keeler and I will control the vampires while Encke manages the hunters.”

“Thereby revealing your pro powers,” Cain rebuked. “As if that won’t cause more trouble.”

Abel inhaled air as he felt Cain’s thumbs unconsciously stroke over his arms. “That won’t happen.”

“ABEL!” His hands tightened and Abel’s chin jerked when he was shaken. “This is suicide! There a thousand ways this could go wrong! The war could restart, half the school could get killed, _we_ might not make it out of this—”

Suddenly Abel’s features steeled and the hand on Cain’s chest pushed him back with unexpected strength. “We will,” he growled. “I told you this place is only as secure as its least diligent member. _Don’t_ be that person. I thought you were the best. Was that all talk? I thought you’d leap first into this.”

“Not like this!” Cain argued.

“Why not?” Abel combatted. “We’re just parasites to you. You’ve made that clear enough.”

Cain stepped back on his own now, lost for words for once. Abel reiterated, “You’ll keep the hunters and Bering under control unless worst comes to worst, and you have to kill the rogues. That should be easy enough. Just do your task.”

Cain blinked, unable to process all of this at once. Meanwhile, the door swung open on silent hinges to reveal Selene, Keeler, and Encke in the corridor, clearly listening in and waiting to initiate their plan.

“ _Blyat!_ ” Cain cursed, yanking on his trousers. “This is bullshit!”

“We’ll take that as a yes,” Keeler chimed almost perkily. “He’s in.”

“Good,” Encke muttered. “Because the confinement unit is wide open and it’s a matter of seconds before people realize the gardens are full of hungry vampires again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had more to write for this chapter but I realized how long it was and thought I'd give you an update when I found a nice cliff hanging place haha Not sure when the next update will be but it's in the works ;)
> 
> BE SURE TO CHECK OUT MY TUMBLR FOR SNEAK PEEKS / PROGRESS UPDATES ON THE CHAPTERS WINK WINK COUGH COUGH.


	9. Wolf Among the Dogs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Just letting you know to peruse my tumblr if you're ever curious how the next chapter is coming along, because I post snip-its for your suspenseful pleasure. Happy reading! (Tumblr link should be in end notes)
> 
> I've also jumped on the Captive Prince parade, so feel free to send me a message so we can gush or if you just want to chat :)

Cain grumbled the whole way to Bering’s office. He started out of Abel’s room to do his part while the others waited until the breach alert provided a distraction. He was not feeling any better as his hamstrings were officially complaining about the day’s events.

“The things I do for that little twat,” he complained. “It’s not enough that I treat you to something nice and defend you to Commander Dick holding all the leashes, I have to make sure he doesn’t let the wild dogs slip as your—”

“Could you lower the volume? I’m not sure Bering’s heard you yet,” Keeler sassed behind him.

If Cain were a lesser being he would have flailed in surprise, but his pride merely sent a glare at the blond and his braid. “What do you want? You don’t trust me even after recruiting me?”

Keeler had an unnervingly natural way of smiling, as if he could do it as easily over tea or over a corpse, which was only proven by his reply, “As much as I enjoy seeing my partner’s strengths, it’s my turn to threaten you.”

Cain’s mouth twisted to the side in a pout as Keeler strode alongside him. “Aren’t you worried about unwanted listeners?”

Keeler’s head cocked to the side ever so slightly as if he was listening and he peeked behind them. “Vampires are in class and humans are asleep.”

Cain made a gruff sound in the back of his throat. “It’s really unsettling how you can do that.” When Keeler gave him an inquiring look he elaborated, “That whole vampire mental thing; the way you can sense each other.”

Keeler nodded. “A common complaint for humans, but it hardly helped in Selene’s case.”

This puzzled Cain, and he voiced as much. “What do you mean? He’s a vampire. How did you miss that?”

Keeler’s expression was the epitome of patience. “Of course I knew he was a vampire. It helped that he was rogue and seeking nourishment. The problem was that he has so little pure blood that he was able to go rogue.”

“I’m getting real tired of this technical shit,” Cain declared. “Are you telling me that pros like you can’t go rogue? Why did Abel take a chunk out of my neck then?”

Keeler took a long time retying the end of his braid before he responded, “You might care to recall that Abel was not violent. Starving, but not violent.”

Cain rolled his eyes. “Congratulations. You’re literally so aristocratic you can’t be bothered to succumb to basic, animalistic urges. No wonder you guys are practically extinct.”

Keeler laughed. “Says the wolf among the dogs. Why do you think Bering likes you so much?”

The hunter’s scowl cracked into a grimace. “I’d rather not think about it.”

“Perhaps you should,” Keeler suggested cryptically.

They were nearing a corner of the hallway where Cain would continue the rest of the way to do his part. “Get on with the threats then.”

Keeler was smiling again, but this time his fangs were out. The hunter cursed himself for shivering when a slim finger slid along his jaw, grazing his throat. “I’m sure Bering has told you how dependent Abel will be if you become his partner, but you ought to know that it is not a one-sided relationship. You don’t understand—”

“For christ’s sake, this again—” Cain began, but Keeler gripped his chin, halting his words with iron fingers that were oddly as gentle a flower petals.

“Because you _can’t_ understand,” Keeler reiterated. “You’re not one of us. You don’t have our blood. You don’t have our senses, our needs…”

The blonde leaned in closer than he ever had, which might have unnerved Cain the most. He had not interacted with the man often, but he had gotten the impression that Professor Keeler was a compassionate, albeit aloof person. Suddenly he hadn’t a doubt in his mind what his species and bloodline was. There was a certain weight that real power carried, and Keeler had it.

“You can’t smell what we breathe when you’re in the room. We are predators, and our intelligence is wired to discover your weaknesses. You’re quite the commodity, Cain, and you may put on a mask of arrogance but I reckon it is because you know how observant we are. You know how we sense your…subtler characteristics, and you’ve had to defend yourself against us in the past because of them. There is a great protector in you, and Bering wants to use him to tie Abel down. I want him to lift Abel up. You’re a passionate fighter the same way Abel is, but he has had to learn how to battle in silence whereas we all know you prefer a loud entrance and an even louder exit. You’ve seen Abel pull a man’s mind out of insanity. Imagine what he could do with a bit of your confidence. You won’t have to fake arrogance any longer, because you won’t have to hide anymore.”

He leaned back, letting his words filter in as he pivoted to walk back through the corridor. Keeler finished with, “But just as we know your secrets, we know Abel’s. The entire vampire community at this academy witnessed him choose you. No one wants a slice of pie until the king tastes it…wouldn’t you agree?”

Cain’s features opened as Keeler’s back turned, striding away and disappearing as the lights went out in the building. For the first time in a long while, Cain felt his heartbeat rattling in ribs.

********

The lights went out. Encke gripped Abel’s arm and ushered Selene and Helios out of the dormitory. “You’re sure?” he asked.

Abel peeked up at him as they rushed silently through the stairwell toward the gardens. “A little late to ask, huh?”

Encke’s silver eyes shimmered in the minimal light. “Considering this plan largely rests on your shoulders, it’s never too late.”

Something in that comment struck Abel’s heart, inducing him to shove it into the back of his mind for later contemplation. “Just get them out of here and safe. As long as that happens, the plan will be a success.”

There was a gravity to Encke’s silence that suggested he wanted to say more but they moved forward. Just before they reached the French doors to the gardens, Encke yanked the three of them to a halt. Before he could voice why, Helios observed, “It’s chaos out there.”

“Perfect for us to go unnoticed,” Selene added.

“Perfect to get us all killed,” Encke corrected. “We have to be careful. The hunters are running on adrenaline right now. They’re excited, and this may hamper their judgment. We need to wait until their adrenaline wears down so they don’t shoot at any trace of movement.”

“When will that be?” Abel wondered.

Encke was watching through the glass as figures darted here and there. Abel jumped when a rogue splashed through the central fountain and then disappeared with two hunters sprinting after it.

“That depends,” Encke answered, “on when they realize they’re out numbered. As long as your boyfriend does his job and doesn’t bolster the hunters’ with larger numbers, we should be fine.”

Abel bristled. “He’s not my—!”

“Shut up,” Helios and Selene groaned together.

Abel’s mouth shut and he resigned himself to waiting anxiously waiting for Encke to gauge the right time to leave. He knew the time was getting close because things were getting louder outside; the hunters were calling for aid and the screams of rogues were venturing closer and closer to the school. Encke once again gripped his arm out of habit as he leaned close to advise, “Don’t open your mind to them until you absolutely have to.”

His other hand closed around one of the knobs as he looked to Selene and Helios. They nodded and he opened the door just wide enough for them to slip out.

********

Cain peered at the cigar Commander Bering touched to the flame, listening to the crackle of the wrapping burning and the infusion of fire throughout the end fibers. He inhaled just enough to taste it, to keep it lit. The smoke was sweet, like brandy or something more pronounced than the usual acidic burn across his tongue.

“Unique, isn’t it?” Bering said. “If you knew where to look, you’d find a rule prohibiting these on the premises.”

Cain’s eyes flicked up, his lips dragging off the cigar. “Am I supposed to feel pampered?” he uttered dryly, like the length burning between his fingers.

Bering chuckled. “It’s not often you seek me out. What’s troubling you, son?”

Again, Cain’s heart thudded hard against his ribs. Twice in one evening was really getting out of hand. “I want to be sure what my incentives are.”

Bering looked up from his cigar with mild surprise. “Regarding Abel? I thought that was clear.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Well you seemed less than interested last we spoke. What changed?”

Behind the commander stood his computer monitor, silenced out of courtesy while it flashed with communication messages from team leaders. Normally there would be video footage for him to observe events live, but due to Abel and Keeler’s computer sabotaging, what Bering did not see would not concern him…

Despite Cain’s silence, the man did not glance at the screen. “This must be really bothering you to not be out there with your team,” the he stated. “If you’re not careful, someone might steal your ranking.”

Cain tapped his cigar ash directly over the floor. “Ignoring the fact that I was sent into the field before being cleared for physical activity, you’re noticeably calm during another breech. Twice in one week. If this place is nearing collapse, name my incentives for staying.”

The circle of Bering’s cigar glowed orange before he replied, “I wonder how far you’d get…and the handful of rogues frolicking in the gardens are hardly an issue. The incentives are the same: you would go home. Well, to whatever home you have. The point being that you get to retire. One in a thousand hunters are so lucky.”

“With what strings?”

“None,” Bering answered easily. “You’re a free man.”

“I doubt it,” Cain uttered.

Bering looked at him clearly for the first time since he entered the office, cigar forgotten. “Really, what is this about?”

 _That asshole, Keeler,_ Cain answered internally. Thanks to him, Cain was wondering if his last discussion with Bering was in poor taste. He had scorned him by saying he would rather side with the vampires, but if they were all craving for a sip then Cain was not sure which side of this war was better: Bering’s empty promises or literally and figuratively risking his neck…

“This would’ve been easier if you’d left me in the snow,” he murmured softly.

The commander laughed. “You don’t mean that. Your loss would benefit no one, and—”

But Cain’s eyes widened on the screen behind him, which flickered and momentarily displayed what the computer should have shown: camera footage from the gardens, where one in particular featured a lanky blonde dashing over the snow-patched grass with two others in tow…while nocturnal eyes glowed in the background and a number of figures shot past, too quick for the camera to pick up, and far more than a handful.

“FUCK!” he cried, whirling out of his seat and dashing from the office.

********

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Abel yelped, bounding across dormant flower gardens. His breath came in panted gasps. This was not what Encke had had in mind when he told them to go out of the western gate.

“Keeler had you reprogram the security so the western side of the grounds would reactivate last,” he had said. “Get there, and you’re out, just be quick about it.”

Except getting out of the gate was not the issue—things were coming in. Abel rapidly sorted through his panic and memory for the blueprints of the garden. The building was not gated, but the walls of shrubbery were such that they enabled privacy and gates which did more for aesthetic value than real security. However there were cameras monitoring them, currently inoperative if the school’s anti-subversion hardwiring had not worked through his and Keeler’s hacking yet. Keeler had practically written the security system’s defense software so it should not be an issue, but time was still critical.

“Over there,” Abel rasped, pointing for Helios and Selene to follow him past the gardens’ irrigation system instead of using the gate.

“Is that the fastest you can go?” Helios voiced, audibly anxious.

Even with his lungs screaming, Abel sassed, “You’re welcome to carry me.”

He did not actually expect a response, much less Helios scooping him onto his back, but Abel held on and squinted against the sudden wind in his eyes from Helios’ speed. “Through those thicker trees,” he called when his breath returned. “The city’s that wa—”

Before he could finish, something—many somethings—collided with Helios, tearing Abel off his back and sending the three of them sprawling into the snow. Abel landed unceremoniously on his face and he could only run his tongue over his teeth to be sure they were not broken. His nose was not as fortunate. Heat blossomed in the center of his face and dripped over his lips but it would heal soon enough. His gums tickled but his fangs did not extend for fear of another collision. Abel heaved himself to his feet, focusing on finding Selene and Helios, with recovering his breath again, let alone the startling number of hands reaching for him.

Abel flinched violently when a shrieking hiss cascaded over him, but it was Selene dividing the rogues around him while Helios pulled Abel from the huddle of savagery.

But Selene was not enough. Helios was not enough. Once Abel was on his feet, he could see just how many surrounded them, and how many more were coming. He thought the last breech of rogues was consuming, but this…this was a mob of the worst kind. An infestation—was the situation with vampires so infected? Why were so many at this level of hunger? This night was moving from bad to catastrophe too quickly.

At this point Abel was not even surprised when a flurry of hunters burst onto the scene, but one in particular caught him off guard. He recognized Abel in the same moment and immediately shouldered his firearm to help him up.

“Abel? What the hell are you doing here? You need to get inside—” He was distracted with punching a rogue back and swinging his weapon so he could handle it while ushering Abel back toward the building.

Abel felt his iron grip around his upper arm, practically lifting him off his feet. “No!” he exclaimed, trying to push against Praxis but with just one arm, the man’s strength was supreme. Abel was not sure how to convince him to let go without inducing suspicion, but when a bullet passed right through a rogue and hit Helios, Abel had a different issue entirely.

“No! SELENE!” Abel cried, but he was gone, leaping into the foray of hunters—except he did not exactly _land._ Someone caught him and threw him back, so Helios grabbed him despite the blood soaking into his shirt. Abel stared dumbfounded, unsure of what had just happened until a new pair of hands jabbed the flexed muscles of Praxis’s arm, shocking them so his grip loosened and Abel could be yanked away from him.

“Come on, princess. No time for your weak ankles.”

“C-Cain! What are you doing?” Abel flustered as they took off through the trees. “What about Bering—they’ll see!”

He looked over his shoulder at the cacophony of hunters and rogues battling on the edge of the forest, where the academy gardens ended and night started. Praxis was shouting something but Cain pulled him back around or else risk breaking his ankle over the tree roots hidden under the ice. “No kidding. That’s why you should run faster.”

“Cain, really,” Abel huffed, internally apologizing to his respiratory system. “They’ll know you helped us.”

“You’re sweet, but you should really be more mindful to who’s winning this fight.”

Cain’s hand between his shoulder blades spurred Abel forward even as he glanced back to see eyes reflecting starlight back at them. “There weren’t supposed to be this many, but there’s a plan.”

The next moment, Abel really despised Cain’s athletic ability to guffaw and sprint simultaneously. “I’d love to hear it, baby, ‘cause things are looking real bad right now.”

“Selene and Helios need to be in the city first.”

“My sister’s there,” the latter confirmed in front of them.

Cain uttered an undecipherable sound that was something like resignation. “She couldn’t just pick him up?”

The comment went unanswered as Helios noted the city’s lights now shining through the tree branches. However the more pinpricks of light they saw, the louder the footfalls around them became.

“I don’t want to complicate things,” Cain uttered, now ushering the winded Abel, the slowing Helios, and the tandem Selene onward. “But we can’t just lead a mob of rogues into town.”

“They’re…” Abel wheezed. “They’re after me. Go on…”

“Helios is bleeding,” Selene argued.

“You’re all a disaster,” Cain finished. “We’ll take you to the edge of the city, and then whatever Abel thinks is a plan will hopefully start working. Selene, you’re in charge. Get Helios there. Another step and Abel might cough his lungs.”

Molding Abel to him, Cain slowed considerably while Selene similarly curled Helios’ arm over his shoulders and held onto his waist for the last leg of the journey. The trees began to thin, and the pairs split up. Selene and Helios disappeared within the shadows of the city whereas Cain stopped to lean Abel against a tree. “All right, blondie, what is this plan?”

But Abel was not ready for words yet. Cain glanced around them, analyzing their situation. “Seriously, Abel, please tell me there actually is a plan—”

“Holllnn tummy…” Abel whispered, not out of secrecy but from the weakness of his lungs.

“Huh?” Cain leaned forward, easing Abel’s cheek from the tree bark to look at him properly.

“Hold onto me…” Abel repeated.

“Why?” Cain growled, but he pulled Abel against his body, supporting his weight while Abel’s head tucked under his chin.

“Because…I’ll hear them—” Abel said a moment before his knees gave out. Cain sputtered as he fumbled to keep him upright, ogling the excruciated expression on Abel’s face, the fingers clamped over his scalp.

“Abel? Abel!”

It was too loud inside his head, full of screams of hunger, pain, and desperation. Abel’s eyes overflowed with tears, unable to think let alone push away the sheer familiarity of such emotions. Abel could feel the hubs of panic and anger around him, rushing through the trees.

 _Prince! Blood…warm…need warm…_ and other variations thrummed incessantly between his ears alongside his own heartbeat…and another…

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Fuck off, Praxis.”

“What are you even doing here, Cain?” Praxis retorted. “Last I heard, you weren’t cleared for activity.”

“Tell Bering that!” Cain snapped, hoisting Abel against his chest. “I’d love a fucking holiday.”

 _Help…prince, help…_ reverberated inside Abel’s skull. _Veins…feel like sandpaper…blood. Need blood…_ Here and there he caught sensations like the bite of the snow in a rogue’s foot, the splitting of skin against ice but no blood to clot and seal the wound.

“Cain! Where the hell are you going?” Praxis bellowed. “What’s going on?”

“Fuck this fuck this fuck this fuck this fuck this,” Cain was chanting as Abel’s eyes opened to slits. He realized that Cain was running and carrying him through the last stretch of underbrush into the side streets of the city. Cain’s heartbeat sang louder and louder in Abel’s ears, calming the ache caused by the several dozen vampires in his head.

Even with his arms full, Cain tracked Selene and Helios to the alcove of a coffee shop they were recovering in, startling them so that Selene roughly shoved Helios behind him. Considering his partner was rather larger than him, wounded though he was, this was quite a feet. “Oh. You,” he greeted bluntly. His green and silver eyes were bright in the darkness as they fell on Abel. “What are you doing here? This causes more problems than solves them.”

“No shit,” Cain snapped, clutching Abel to his torso. His heels knocked against Cain’s thighs with every step but the hunter hardly seemed to notice. He heaved his weight so Abel lurched backward, his shoulder blades hitting the brick of the building. The scents of coffee and sugar vaguely lingered in the air. He felt his jaw in Cain’s grip as those dark eyes bored into him. “You promised me a plan,” he growled. “You promised me we’d be make it out of this! This isn’t making it out!”

His words were cut off by Abel’s hand covering his lips while the slim body collapsed once more into his warmth. “Shhh…they’re loud enough without your help.”

“What the bloody fuck does that me—” Cain barked, but this time both Selene and Helios clapped their hands over his mouth. Nocturnal eyes were watching them from either end of the street, the mirrors of their corneas twinkling like the holiday lights in the trees lining the pavement. Cain grumbled, “Great. We’ve got a vampire who’s bleeding, and the one with a plan is catatonic. What a night.”

_There. There. He’s there. Four. Four of them. Four? Why four. What right…what are they? Three strangers with our prince. Why? Blut Fürst…it hurts. No blood…injured…_

“Are you afraid?” Abel murmured.

Cain harrumphed, “What sort of question is that? I adore being the center of attention.”

Abel laughed but it was weak, ragged, and made Cain push him back again to see his face. The hunter gently handled his chin, holding Abel’s face steady while his eyes lolled in their sockets. “Are you talking to me?” Cain wondered.

Abel’s eyes moved toward him, acknowledging him but not truly seeing him. “He said you were in the snow…found in the snow…because you ran from your old job. Were you afraid?”

Cain could feel Selene and Helios exchanging worried glances but Cain focused on Abel. “ ‘He’? Are Encke or Keeler blabbing about me?”

But Abel’s eyelids grew heavy, and a consuming emptiness plummeted in Cain’s stomach. Desperate to keep Abel awake, he answered, “You can’t accurately call it a ‘job’…just a different kind of slavery.”

Abel’s eyes forced themselves open. “Slavery... Were you afraid?” he repeated.

 _Why is he hung up on this?_ the hunter wondered but he answered, “Yes, I was. I thought I was dead.”

A giggle bubbled up Abel’s throat. “Can you think when you’re dead?”

Cain sighed loudly. “I’m not interested in this metaphysical shit, Abel.” He carefully shook Abel’s chin, trying to keep his attention keen. Cain leaned forward, pressing his forehead to the blonde’s. “Whatever mind tricks you’re trying to pull, either focus or abandon them.”

Despite his white hair, those dark lashes sagged closed. Beside them, Selene gasped the same time Helios groaned, “They’re getting closer."

Abel’s eyes moved under the lids, a tear streaking over his cheek, and then another. His lashes fluttered as a soft sensation pierced through his attention. Cain was kissing between his brows, and his lips dragged across to his temple, his cheekbone, and then breathing in the scent of his hair.

“Abel,” he breathed, “Whatever they’re telling you, whatever they are demanding, shut them down. You’re a pro, and it shouldn’t matter how many of them there are. If your blood ties are really so special, they should obey you. Helios is right here. You did a miracle by him. Find some self-esteem. For every rogue here, you’re worth a dozen. But they won’t obey unless you believe it.”

Abel’s lips parted, grazing over Cain’s jaw. “If I can’t?”

A large hand found its way to his hair, gripping those silver threads as Cain’s lips pushed Abel’s apart, kissing once before claiming his mouth. Tasting his lips, Cain’s tongue did not tease, but savored; nibbling the suppleness of Abel’s lip and just extending far enough to memorize his flavor. “Exactly as you said earlier: I’ll kill them all.”

Abel’s eyes opened. “All?”

The hunter grinned against his mouth. “Do you doubt me?”

But Abel’s thoughts were a chaotic buzz as he said, “No…you’ll be the one who kills me.”

Cain recoiled mentally, but slowly he eased back. Somewhere, Abel heard Helios utter, “They’re coming. We need to move.”

Abel’s head sagged toward the street as if to look at the vampires coming. _Stop,_ he called. His mind locked on the rogues nearest to them, mere steps away from their alcove. _STOP._

They did, and Helios narrated as much. At some point Cain had set Abel down and his legs had held firm. The hunter meanwhile pulled two slim blades from inside his trousers, the short swords that usually lay flat on the backs of his thighs. The hilts unhooked from the waist of his pants, coming up easily and warmed by his body heat.

 _HUNTER! FERAL,_ thrashed inside Abel’s head, urging his eyelids shut against the pain. _We smell him. We hate him. Beat him before he beats us—_

 _Shut up,_ Abel commanded. _He protects me. He will not act unless I tell him to._

There were murmurings of doubt but the buzz substantially quieted. _Protects…partner…_

Abel continued, _There is a place you must go. Two vampires are waiting for you there. They will feed you._

The cacophony burst back up. _Blood! Blood. Warmth. Heat. Full…_

Abel’s anger rippled through to them, silencing them once more. _A progenitor, Keeler, awaits you with his partner, Encke. He will kill you if you disobey Keeler._

_Obey. Obey. Blood. Life. Obey._

Abel transferred directions to the blood bank from which Keeler regularly stocked his fridge, but as the rogues dashed away he stymied, _Wait. Why are you like this? Who did this to all of you?_ He honestly expected them to be too far gone, to only receive pieces of broken memories, of more pain than actual images.

He was entirely wrong. The feeling of needles plunging into his sinew infused his mind, so clear he gasped in agony, as if the metal points were actually scraping his bones. Cain whirled around, conflicted between returning to his side and guarding the alcove. 

Selene breathed, “They’re…they’re gone. They’re going.”

Cain frowned at both ends of the street, seeing how this was true. He turned his attention back to Abel, whose eyes were growing unnaturally wide. Memories of similar kidnappings were overlapping in his mind’s eye; nameless faces of men in black hunters’ uniforms delivering them to a location. Wide belts strapping them down.

And the scent of blood. Not human…but rabbit or dog, thick enough to make their stomachs rumble until cold metal greeted them in the form of pliers. Dental instruments overpowered their jaws, prying their mouths open and clamping onto their fangs, pulling, pulling, until they tasted blood as well as smelled it, pulling until there was not anything left to pull.

Then they were sent to a room. A cage. _We’re afraid. We’re all afraid, but they’re not coming for us anymore,_ they communicated through the walls. _Because they found one, or someone. His fangs extend. They don’t have to pull on his—_

Suddenly Helios charged forward, closing the distance between him and Abel and wrapping his muscly arms around the contrastingly thin blonde. He tried shaking him, jostling his head. “Stop. Stop. Stop. Turn it off. You shouldn’t see that.”

Cain abandoned the street altogether. Striding forward, he separated Helios from Abel, shoving him back to his partner while Abel slumped against the wall. “See what?”

Abel gasped again, this time his eyes sagging as his fangs slipped out of his gums. It was Cain’s turn to shake his shoulders, patting his cheek until they became outright slaps but Abel was in too deep. He looked to see Selene’s opinion on all this, but the slim vampire held both of his hands over his mouth, his own tears racing down his face. Cain growled loudly, exploding his anger at no one. “AAAAGH! I hate this mental bullshit! What are you lot seeing and freaking out over?”

“I-I…” Selene tried to explain. “I blacked out early. When we were captured, they drained me so I don’t remember anything, but…Helios remembers. Oh god. Abel…they’re showing him why they are rogue.”

Helios caught Selene, whose knees gave out. Abel’s eyes drifted in his direction, sharing his thoughts as well as the memories his eyes had seen but his mind had buried underneath his hunger, fear, and rage. Selene was strapped down like the others, but a new face stepped close to him. A face Abel knew.

Cain shook his head, still not understanding. “Where did the rogues go? What do you mean, ‘why they’re rogue’?”

“Because we were captured,” Selene wept the same moment Helios answered, “Keeler and Encke are handling it.”

Selene continued, “We were betrayed. It’s in our nature to trust progenitors. We couldn’t fight back.”

This raised more questions than answered them. “Betrayed by a pro? Why are you speaking as if you’re not one? You should have been able to see through the situation.”

“I’m more vampire than progenitor!” Selene exclaimed.

“But there are three progenitors running around!” Cain combatted. “Are you not one of them?”

_Blond hair. Too blond. White gold, silver that danced the line between warm blond and frigid white. Trimmed and combed perfectly in place, hair that was a strong familial trait not many possessed—only three, actually._

“No!”

Despite everything that night, Cain’s complexion now paled. “Then if there’s Keeler and Abel…who’s the third?”

_Glasses…blurry from a drug induced haze, but it was a pair of spectacles on his face, casting a sheen across the memory._

“Cain.”

His gaze swung around. Helios was holding onto Selene, who buried himself in his partner’s chest, escaping his memories.

“Cain,” desperately, heartbroken.

He finished returning his swords to his trousers and pulled Abel into the protective cave of his chest.

“Cain,” he hiccuped, muffled against the coat Encke had loaned him.

“Hush, I’m here,” he uttered. “You shouldn't have jumped into this.”

Abel was muffling more things, inducing Cain to ease his chin up. “What was that?”

Instead of crying, Abel’s eyes were red and swollen, but he was clearly in shock. His fangs had not retracted into his gums, but were out and ready to defend. As each second passed, he was far too calm, his eyes glazing over. “I thought Bering was the one behind it. I thought the hunters...”

Cain frowned but Abel continued, “And he knows about me. He must know. He spoke to me once. He looked directly at me in the class he came to observe.”

“Abel,” Cain pushed.

“Cook…it’s Cook…” His voice was hardly a whisper when he finished. Cain hastily unzipped his coat and folded the flaps around Abel. He needed to get to a warm location immediately. Cain took a final moment to glare back at Helios and Selene. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell anyone?”

Helios’ eyes were sunken from blood loss but otherwise he held onto his partner tightly. Selene, however, showed his fangs. “We haven’t seen him at the academy. How were we supposed to know the president of your residence was a monster?”

Cain grimaced, showing his own teeth even though his canines were not on a vampire’s level. He locked eyes with Helios long enough to utter, “Get to your sister yourself.”

Abel’s legs worked even though his mind was worn thin. He walked at Cain’s ushering and stood compliantly as his pockets were searched for his cell phone. Cain easily found Keeler’s number—the only one in the contact list aside from Encke’s—and sent the message: _Rogues headed your way. Safe to go back?_

He was not sure it was right to return to such a place but Abel needed a warm, familiar environment to recover, and leaving would not only raise suspicions but Abel would give him an earful if they left Keeler and Encke behind. Not to mention, in the back of his mind was Bering's warning, _I wonder how far you'd get..._

Keeler’s response was immediate: _Yes. Enter through the front._

Abel stiff as a board, following blindly except for when Cain removed his coat and cinched it around him. He had left his shirt in the garbage of Abel’s bathroom, so he proceeded bare-chested through the forests, but the journey was short and it was not the first time he had been exposed to the cold. Sure enough, when they approached the front entrance, the lobby was blacked out but empty, which was fortunate because along the way Cain realized that Abel was covered in blood. Between the skirmish of hunters and rogues followed by Helios’ embrace, Abel was smeared and stained in red.

Cain did not bother trying to figure out if Abel could navigate elevation and just carried him up to the dormitory. He had to fish around Abel’s pockets for the key but as soon as they were inside, he locked the door shut, checked around the room to make sure they were alone, and turned the shower on full blast as he stripped Abel of his garments.

“Come here,” he ordered gently, unzipping the coat and tossing it into the sink along with his sweater, undershirt, and then his boots were tossed by the toilet. “Lift your foot. That’s it.”

With the trousers and underwear gone, he coaxed Abel into the shower. He obeyed unthinkingly. One foot up. Then down. The other up. Again down. A reaction finally came when the water hit his face, causing him to blink several times until he startled.

“Woah, woah, calm down. It’s just me. You’re in your room. You’re in a shower.”

“C-Cain?” he rasped. His eyes were still vacant but slowly found him as the water matted his hair to his skull. “Cain?”

“Shhhh. Shh, I’m right here. I finally got you naked only for you to clench up into an icicle. You’re in shock, so just try and breathe normally.”

Instead he collided with enough force to send them sprawling at the bottom of the shower cubicle. “Shit—fuck!” Cain cursed. He managed to tighten his hold on Abel and control their fall, but it was far from graceful and not without its pains. The back of his head ached from knocking into the tile but he pushed Abel toward the water once more.

“You need to stay there, _zolotse,_ ” he said, but Abel was holding onto him like steel. Rethinking this, Cain pondered if it was better that Abel stayed off his feet until he gathered himself. Gripping the backs of his knees, Cain pulled his legs in so Abel straddled him and he could more easily rotate them so they sat under the water.

“A-Aahhh,” Abel shuddered. Initially, Cain raked the hair off his face, but it became a lost cause as he waited patiently under the shower. He let it slither over his forehead and temples as his gaze began to wander over Abel’s backside. It was a smooth plain of creamy flesh, only broken by the ripple of ribs, vertebrae, and shoulder blades. It was as if the flesh there had never been touched by the sun. Cain’s hands started wandering over what he saw, feeling each individual muscle and instinctively kneading into them, forcing the tension away. He started somewhere in the middle before he realized what he was doing and restarted from the bottom. The joining of Abel’s spine to his pelvis was flanked by two knots; Cain would have felt inclined to descend lower, but the time it took to loosen the knots insisted he move upward, seeking more parts to fix.

“Umm!” Abel exclaimed when those fingers pressed into the muscle flexors in the center of his back, supporting the chain of his spine. Cain chuckled in his ear and pecked a kiss to his shoulder as Abel squirmed under his ministrations. After a while the flexors relaxed and Cain continued to the neck, which proved a whole new challenge. Abel exhaled, slumping against him as Cain’s fingertips swirled over muscle and scalp alike, soothing and invigorating simultaneously. Abel was rousing as if from a deep dream, squirming against him and rubbing his face against Cain’s shoulder and neck.

“Hey,” he curtailed, pushing Abel far enough so those fangs were safely away, but when he looked into Abel’s face he found clear eyes and a harmless mouth.

“Hum,” exclaimed from Abel’s throat when Cain kissed him, sealing their lips in a slippery meeting. He continued rubbing his neck, encouraging blood flow to warm his extremities. “Cain…” he said between kisses. “Why are we naked?”

“Because that’s how people clean themselves, sweetheart. Your clothes were worse for wear.”

As if to verify this, Abel looked toward the door and his nostrils flared, smelling the blood. “Don’t get excited,” Cain ordered while dragging his lips along Abel’s temple. “I dumped peroxide over everything.”

Those dark eyes returned to his. “It’s in my hair.”

Puzzled, Cain redirected his gaze and sure enough, rusty crusts were embedded in the pale tresses from a splatter or two, but the shampoo was on the other side of the shower. Standing him up, Cain reached past for the bottle. “Eyes closed.”

“I can do i—” Abel started but the bottle snapped open and the blade of a hand created a visor over his face as shampoo was drizzled over him.

“Really, I can—” he tried again, but Cain’s vigorous scrubbing quieted him.

“Hush or you’ll eat soap.”

“Why? Eep!” His eyes were closed so he was not prepared for the careful nip on his lips. “What was that for?”

“The past few hours,” he answered, pushing the blond hair back for the water to remove the soap. “This could have all gone so much smoother if you’d consulted me. You’ll know better next time.”

“You have an authority complex,” Abel grumbled. Just as easily as Cain bit his lip, he kissed his forehead.

“I thought you were supposed to be smart.” He continued before Abel could intervene, “I like living, with all its pains and pleasures, but this requires planning. Don’t jump into things like that again where I can't do anything.

“I thought you were confident in your abilities,” Abel returned.

“I mean that mental stuff. If you get locked inside your own head, I won’t be able to get you out,” he explained, but no sooner were the words out of his mouth, then Abel’s expression sank. “What?”

Abel shook his head, not meeting his gaze. “I never thought I’d be safer in my parents’ house.”

From the little that Cain had heard about these parents, he knew he did not want to learn more. Tipping Abel’s chin up, he chided, “Hey, you’re naked and dripping with yours truly. Pay attention.”

Abel’s eyes rolled up to meet his with a glare but he let his weight fall against Cain, who took it as a good sign that he was being trusted to catch him. “What are we going to do?” the blonde mumbled, full of worry.

Well now he felt inclined to tease Abel a bit more, who shivered as Cain’s lips found his ear and nibbled along its curve. “You’re not paying attention. We’re going to let this night end before we start a new one.”

He shifted his hips and Abel jerked against the feeling of his erection rising against his inner thigh. “U-Um, I don’t think—” he sputtered, but heat was winding through his belly into his own groin and Cain’s palm finding and massaging his balls urged loud sighs from him. Abel’s fingers clenched his biceps. “Wait, wait!”

Instead Cain loomed over him, approaching as Abel retreated until his back pressed to the wall. He rotated as if to disappear into the tile but his temple pressed against it as his pelvis instinctively rocked, trembling as Cain gave a long pull of his cock. Abel’s nails bit into his arms as he milked his length and his other hand slid behind. Abel’s chin lifted for air when those fingertips found his entrance and Cain licked down the column of his neck before he bit, hard, on the meat between the neck and shoulder.

“AH!” Abel cried, thrusting inside Cain’s hand and spilling into his palm.

“Man, you’re uptight,” he narrated, looking over Abel’s shoulder at the translucent fluid being washed away from his fingers. “When was the last time you jacked off?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Abel muttered, hovering between extreme embarrassment and shame.

Cain laughed but let the subject lie. He left a trail of kisses between his ear and shoulder before he declared, “Clean enough. Come here.”

Abel yelped as he was bodily removed from the shower and only briefly enclosed inside a towel. He was sure his hair was standing on end with the way Cain used the towel but the clack of the heating dial was loud as he was all but tossed onto the bed. Even as he was bouncing on the mattress, Abel flexed his arms and knees against him. “Wait! Cain, I don’t think this is a good idea!”

One sleek, dark brow lifted as Cain loomed over him on all fours. “Why not?”

Abel’s lungs were empty and wanted to shudder as that predatory gaze loomed over him. “Because…” he tried, “Encke and Keeler won’t approve. Because—ah!”

“I’ve had enough of your fondness over Encke,” Cain growled. “He’s taken. He’s not yours.”

Abel visibly recoiled from him, sinking into the mattress. “You don’t have to say it like that. I know, and don’t speak so casually about this. Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

Cain sighed, “Trying to have sex but someone keeps talking.”

“I defended you against them!” Abel erupted. “They smelled you, your pheromones, your adrenaline. They identified you as a hunter, and hunters were the tools used to capture them. They would have killed you. You don’t understand…how I’m…growing attached…”

The brooding look on Cain’s face evaporated as he processed these words. Slowly, he smiled and leaned in to nuzzle Abel’s cheek, grazing his lips but not kissing. “Are you saying you’ve fallen for me, sweetheart?”

Abel glared at him but the rush of pink on such fair skin was unmistakable. “I’m saying you’re a hypocrite. You tell me to not jump into things but you’re playing with me like this is something harmless. You can play at liking me and protecting me all you want, because when this goes south for me, you have an easy escape. You just have to tell Bering you’ve been his spy all along while Cook has his way with me.”

Cain’s features hardened and he shook his head. “I don’t think Bering and Cook are working together. Something about that doesn’t feel right.”

“Either way,” Abel curtailed. “You need to know that those rogues thought of you as…my partner, because that was the level of attachment I transferred to them in order to calm them down.” He sighed haughtily out of nowhere, surprising Cain. “Ugh! This would make more sense to you if you just knew our history!”

“Oy vay,” Cain grumbled, collapsing his weight so he lay on top of the disgruntled Abel. “If this is your version of pillow talk we need to work on it.”

“Cain,” the latter huffed, out of breath from the oppressive weight. He opened his mouth to argue but his lack of air switched his words to, “I can’t breathe.”

Strong arms entwined around him and they rolled, so now Abel lay on top of Cain and was allowed to recommence, “I’m serious. I’ve been reading—”

“Reading what? There’s nothing to read,” Cain reminded, but the gleam in his eyes was wolfish.

“Fuck you,” Abel retorted, earning a booming laugh that shook his chest and Abel reclining on it.

“I’m trying, but continue,” Cain insisted when he was finished. He would get the location of these reading materials later. Until then, Abel needed to get his thoughts out.

“Hunters used to be slaves, but not how you think. When progenitors were many, we owned castles, estates, or even just humble homes, but we needed blood sources. Humans were a part of the home, the family, treasured and partners to their masters, but because some were treated unwell, they rose up and betrayed the vampires to become the first hunters. They had the element of surprise and more, because partnership to my kind isn’t just blood, Cain. It’s bone deep. It’s mind, body, and spirit. If I’m already halfway there and you turned on me, there wouldn’t be anything I could do.”

Cain, whose head was propped on his arm, used his other hand to lazily brush Abel’s hair off his face. He could feel the heartbeat racing against his chest, contrasting with his own calm, even lethargic _lub-dub._ “Why are you telling me this, then? It’s not wise to give such a weakness to your enemy.”

Abel’s features hardened and he tried to shake his head, shake Cain’s fingers off of him but he seemed to be running more from himself than from Cain. “Because I don’t want you to be my enemy.”

With stunning clarity, Cain knew Abel was on the verge of tears. He hated tears. Too much sobbing led to not enough sex. Crying was sloppy and unattractive and messy, but more importantly, Abel was not the sort to cry. Abel in tears meant crisis, meant that he really had fucked up, that something was genuinely wrong. All of Bering’s enticements, all of Keeler’s words were shoved aside as his protective nature thrashed to Abel’s aid. Cain’s hands cradled his head as he reared up, shifting them into sitting positions as he left a new trail of kisses across his collarbone, down his chest.

“You were a monster to them,” Abel was saying, his voice weak and hiccuping. “When you’re a monster, nothing fits. When you’re mine, everything works.”

Cain’s lips ended his dialogue. In the core of his being, Cain knew Abel was right, could feel the slim body bending and softening to the contours of his tight hold, meeting him halfway and eager to be closer to him. He could feel Abel responding to his desire to care for him, for his want of him, growing pliant and trusting, because Cain could protect him in ways he could not protect himself and vice versa. Cain knew that Abel was right, and this terrified him.

His fingertips found Abel’s entrance and massaged the pinched ring there, earning mewls and sighs from him. When he pushed a finger inward, Abel tore his lips away to hinder, “No, that won’t work. I don’t have anything…”

“Yes you do,” Cain uttered huskily, popping open the bottle of baby oil he’d grabbed from under the sink.

“That’s not mine,” Abel frowned. “I don’t know how long that’s been there. Is that safe?”

“I’ll just need to wash you thoroughly in the morning,” he informed, mischief blatantly soaking in his words. “Lie back, darling.”

Abel was obviously hesitant, but with a little push, Cain put him on his back and turned him around so his ass was in the air. “I’m not comfortable—” Abel stammered but when something other than fingers and oil met his backside, he went silent. Tongue and lips lapped at his hole, the former coaxing and pushing through until Abel was weak and sagging over the duvet. The slight stubble on Cain’s jaw sent violent tingles through him, and the grip on the back of his thighs made sounds in his throat he did not know he was capable of making. “C-Cain…”

“I want you ready for me,” he purred, causing Abel to sigh. That finger returned, this time slicked with oil and mercilessly probing deep.

“A-Ahow! Be gentle!”

“I am gentle.”

“I mean it,” Abel shuddered as Cain found something that felt…magnificent. “You…could hurt me.”

“It won’t be anything you don’t want,” Cain promised, acknowledging his reaction and stroking, prodding, lavishing that firm yet soft corner inside of him. Another finger joined the first. Cain could not see Abel’s grimace but he felt how tight he was and instructed, “Breathe. The more you breathe the easier this gets.”

The air passing through his throat and lungs sounded too loud, too harsh. “Is this right?” Abel heard himself saying.

Cain uttered something but it was not English as a third and then fourth finger had Abel’s mouth gaping for air. “That-That’s too much!”

“No, it’s just enough,” he reiterated. “Turn over. I want to see you.”

Abel did, and Cain stopped in his tracks. Flushed and beautiful, Abel was a wreck before they had even started. His hair was everywhere, sticking to his face, and his chest rose and fell while plump, parted lips begged to be kissed, sucked, bitten, and fucked. Cain only touched them with his thumb, though, as his eyes dragged lower, to the similarly red and pulsing length on Abel’s belly. His gaze followed Cain’s, and widened at the sight of the considerably larger penis reaching for him.

Cain took note of every breath, every reaction Abel had. “Do you trust me?”

Abel’s swallow was loud, and oh, Cain just wanted to leave his own bites all over that throat. “I shouldn’t.”

But his eyes softened as dimples of all things appeared on Cain’s cheeks. “Good answer. Put the oil on me.”

Abel blinked, not understanding at first, but then he accepted the bottle and reached for him. Cain obligingly propped himself on his arms, leaning his pelvis forward for Abel to stroke him, to prepare him in turn. At first his touch was light, grazing, tentative, but he could feel Abel gain courage as his hands warmed over him, distractedly exploring his thighs, lower abdomen, and undercarriage alike. Cain hummed deeply as one of those hands slid up his length and his own lips parted when a thumb swiped across the head.

“Like this?” Abel wondered, the very voice of innocence.

“You little…” Cain hissed. “How can you ask that when I’m about to cum in your hand?”

Wide eyes looked up as if to say, _Really?_ which only made him hiss more and growl, “Come here.”

“You say that a lot,” Abel giggled. "You're needy."

Cain’s heartbeat felt like it had been walking and collided with a wall. Abel’s giggle blossomed at the expression on his face. “You’re…teasing me? You little shit, you’re teasing me! _I'm_ needy?”

As if in confirmation, Abel’s arms crossed over his torso, giving way to bubbly laughter, overjoyed to see Cain flustered. His scowl twisted to the side, giving way to a smile. The backs of his fingers caressed Abel’s face, feeling the heat of his throat as he said, “You’re so weird…but what a nice sound.”

Abel gaped at him. “Me? I’m the weird one?”

Cain’s brows lifted as he simply nodded. Abel’s hands covered his face as he laughed anew, and Cain took the moment to position himself at Abel’s entrance. The hands flew away as he gasped against Cain pushing inside him. Neither of them expected his fangs to slide out.

“Woah,” Cain exclaimed, instinctively pushing Abel’s head to the side as he pushed in to the hilt.

“It hurts,” Abel exhaled, trying to breathe normally.

The warm, amber torso leaned down until his forearms held him aloft. His fist in Abel’s hair exposed his neck, and when Cain once more found his prostate, the artery all but lifted out of his skin. Cain’s hips swiveled for a better position and grinded against Abel’s ass. His pale knees jerked up, and Cain grabbed one to open him wider, nestling himself between Abel’s legs. He pulled out more and more with each pulse of his hips, giving Abel time to accustom to it until he found a rhythm. He made sure to hit Abel’s prostate each time, rocking waves of pleasure through him.

“Let go…please,” Abel pleaded.

“Can’t trust these,” Cain returned, referring to the fangs that were not showing any signs of contracting.

“Please,” he begged, the tendons of his neck appearing now. “They…hurt. Just do something.”

 _Hurt?_ Cain wondered as he slowed his pace. He loosened the grip on Abel’s hair just enough to ease the strain on his neck. He leaned forward and lavished Abel’s throat, licking along the artery and biting just hard enough to elicit cries and mewls from him.

The touch of lips and teeth on his wrist jerked him up, where Abel was nuzzling the inside of the arm that held him. “None of that,” he chided, pushing his head back down.

“I won’t bite,” Abel begged, but his eyes were glazed over, his eyelids heavy with want. “I need…something.”

In rapid succession, Cain evaluated what this could mean. Fangs out mean hunger or defense…but not now. He recalled another time, numerous times, when those fangs appeared after only a kiss…

Risking it, he released Abel’s hair and brought his fingers to those parted lips. The pad of his finger stroked over one…then the other, sliding up to ever so carefully massage the gums that were hot and throbbing. It would not surprise Cain if pros liked to drink during sex, how the high of their bedmate would pulse around them…but for now, this would have to do.

Abel’s tongue extended and curled over his fingers. His heavy eyes closed as he opened his mouth wider, humming for Cain to not stop. His eyelids fluttered open, when Cain grew just a little harder inside him, stretching him to the limit. Cain did not understand this reaction in himself, but the slippery mess of Abel’s mouth and tongue over his fingers, how such gentle touches had Abel sighing and writhing…

Keeler was right. Abel had the capacity to be a leader, a killer, a king, whatever he wanted to be, but right now he was all his. Cain felt that thrilling, terrifying sensation of power and weakness colliding inside him all over again, but he chose not to think on it this night. He brought his own tongue to meet Abel’s, giving him a taste while avoiding the sharp points aching for him. Abel moved for him, trying to kiss him more, but instinct was ruling over logic, and Cain let go of his knee to focus both hands on his head.

“Careful. You’ve already sliced me open for a kiss before.”

“Cain,” he whined, nuzzling the wrist that held him and licking the fingers that still stroked his teeth. “I want to cum. I want more.”

Cain knew what he wanted, but he was not ready to give it. “I’ll grant one of those,” he promised, and snapped his hips forward.

“Mah!” Abel exclaimed, followed by indecipherable moans as Cain’s powerful thrusts drove his climax upward. Maintaining control, Cain gradually sped up until he was grinding into him. Abel’s head was thrown back, his own hips moving with him as his ankles crossed behind his back. “Don’t…stop…There! Ah-there!”

Cain bit down on his neck, and Abel’s mouth widened in a silent scream. He convulsed beneath Cain, clenching around him so he bit harder than he meant to and tasted salt and an odd sweetness in his mouth. Without thinking, he lapped his tongue over the bite as his orgasm wracked through him alongside Abel’s.

It seemed forever as they just lay there catching their breath. When Cain felt the rise and fall of Abel’s chest grow steady, he lifted off him to find him deeply asleep, blissfully ravished. Repositioning them at the top of the bed, Cain tucked the covers around them only to have Abel seek him in his sleep. He molded himself unconsciously to Cain’s chest, practically climbing on top of him. Cain warily watched the mouth come closer and closer to his neck before Abel settled contently in the fold of his arm and the crevice of his shoulder.

Before his own eyes closed, Cain locked onto Abel’s neck, seeing his own bite as if from a dream he had not expected to be real. He could see his teeth marks closing, healing until only smooth flesh remained, but Cain’s heart felt like it had just slammed into a wall again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, and just a little PSA: don't use oil or oil lubricants. Germs like oil and can actually break your condoms...so yeah. Plus water/silicone based lubes are cheaper haha the things you learn with fanfiction.


	10. Patient

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which a lot of vague dialogue ensues. It will makes sense later, I promise haha

Cain felt the full extent of his exhaustion hours later when his mind awoke habitually with the dawn. His quadriceps and hamstrings ached dully while he lay prone across the bed; even the fine muscles in his feet throbbed dully with discomfort and his chest felt constricted…

Abel was draped over his torso, slumbering as still as a corpse if it were not for the melodic hum of his breathing. His cheek was pressed over Cain’s heart, breathing in time to its rhythm.

Sliding his arms around Abel, Cain supported his head as he rolled them over. Abel uttered a sound, lethargically squirming against the change until his eyes opened just enough to peer glazed eyes up at him.

“Hmm’orning,” he breathed huskily before he wiggled his way up Cain’s chest so he was nestled in all of the right crevices. Abel’s eyes shut while Cain’s hand lifted to cradle the side of his head, drifting through his hair and unconsciously playing with Abel’s ear while sleep washed over him once more. Cain did not realize how deeply he had fallen asleep until he awoke with a start to see the sun setting instead of rising.

His attention to Abel, who was caught with a leg over Cain in order to climb out of the bed. Abel exclaimed groggily when arms encircled him and held him at a stop. Cain reached around him for a tissue from the box on the desk. “Oh!” he yelped as Cain wiped his inner thighs, scrotum, and all. Oddly enough, Abel felt more exposed now than he had last night.

“I’m going to the bathroom. I can take care of—” he began, nudging Cain away but he was yanked down alongside him.

“I promised you a thorough washing. I intend to follow through.”

Abel’s eyes widened and his toes curled as last night's pleasures tingled through him. “Hm!” Abel complained when Cain captured his mouth. He weakly pushed at him.

“What?” he wondered, his pursuits curtailed.

“Morning breath,” Abel pouted.

Cain sighed, but not in a way that sounded bothered. “High maintenance, princess.”

Before Abel could retort, he was swung off the bed as Cain rolled off with him in tow. His toes brushed over the carpet as Cain carried most of his weight but he could not tell if it was out of courtesy or the man’s desire to knead his ass. “Careful back there!”

“Are you sore?” Cain returned, his voice deep and velvet…smug.

He set Abel on his feet and turned the shower on. “A little,” the blonde declared. Cain extended his hand under that smug, albeit sleepy, expression and Abel let him pull him under the water. “Wash your hair. I’ll manage back here.”

Abel gaped as a shampoo bottle was pressed against his chest and Cain disappeared behind him. “What are you—” he exclaimed when his hips were pulled backward. His jaw fell further when Cain’s hand slid up his back, encouraging him to lean forward and brace himself against the wall. Something hot and slick nestled over his hole, massaging the tender flesh underneath and sucking hard enough to pull mewls from Abel’s throat.

“That! That…can’t be s-s-…sanitary…”

Cain’s chuckle rumbled deeply but it was his overnight growth that made Abel shutter. “Cain…your stubble. It itches.”

The heat of his mouth vanished and Abel ventured a look over his shoulder. Cain was letting the hot water hit his face as he scrubbed a hand over his jaw. When he spread Abel again and lapped at his entrance, his facial hair was softer and pliant. Abel bit into his lip when fingers reached deep inside him, pulling and stroking his own cum out while making a point to press into Abel’s sensitive prostate. “Ah…t-there…more.”

He sucked in air through his nose as he felt another finger push past one knuckle, then the other. The pads of Cain’s fingers practically drummed inside him, massaging and pushing circles that made Abel’s legs widen for more. Heat like sticky honey dripped through the arteries of his thighs, making his toes restless. Abel began rocking into his touch when Cain’s other hand reached under to pump his length. He clutched the unopened shampoo bottle as he gasped and exhaled raggedly with his orgasm. The surges of pleasure came in waves, pulled by each stroke of Cain’s hands until there was nothing left but post-wobbliness in his legs.

Cain sucked kisses up his spine until he lavished his neck and Abel felt his hard length rub under his scrotum. Abel’s head sagged to the side, opening for more of Cain’s attention while the man murmured, “Close your legs, baby.”

“But your—”

“That’s what I want,” he curtailed, rubbing Abel’s thighs to coax them closed. Wiggling his feet closer, Abel closed his legs around Cain’s erection, and understood when he began thrust between his thighs. The stimulation of his undercarriage was pleasant in his post-coital state, with the added bonus of Cain nibbling his ear.

Until Keeler’s voice chimed, “Make it speedy. You’ve slept all day and your breakfast-dinner is waiting.”

Abel dropped the shampoo bottle but Cain held him steady.

A deeper resonance sounded as Encke grumbled, “We need to talk.”

Abel shrank within himself, unconsciously closing his legs tightly. A gruff sound escaped Cain’s throat and he pinched Abel’s nipple. “OW!”

“Gentle,” Keeler scolded, close enough that he must have been in the bathroom doorway. “He bruises darker than a plum.”

Meanwhile Cain’s hand wandered over Abel’s chest, seeking his other nipple. “Stop touching those!” Abel hissed, slapping the wandering hands aside.

Cain sucked a loud kiss on his neck. “I’ll give them more attention later.”

The next pinch was on his rear, causing Abel stand up straight so quickly his skull hit Cain’s chin. “Ow, fuck,” he cursed, holding his jaw.

Keeler laughed, his voice fading as he walked out of the bedroom. They heard the door close and Cain felt Abel’s heart thundering through his back. “Sorry…”

“The mood’s gone,” Cain disregarded as he retrieved the shampoo. “Let’s finish and eat.”

Since they had bathed the night before, the shower ended quickly and Cain helped himself to Abel’s wardrobe. He owed it to Keeler for supplying Abel with enough to fill half of the drawers, even more so since he expected Abel to put on some weight. The jogging pants and shirt fit with a comfortable snugness when Cain pulled them on. The elastic around the ankles was a bit much but not intolerable.

Encke opened the door and stared. “You look awful for a man who got laid.”

Cain had heard worse come out of his commanders’ mouths. “Twice.”

They did not need to know he didn’t finish the second time, but he turned his cocky grin to Abel, whose embarrassment was hidden by his hands. This was Cain’s first time being in the room he had eavesdropped on, and he was surprised by its size. It was an intimate space, but at least four times the size of his excuse for a room in the human ward. He was mildly surprised by the platters of dinner waiting on the table. Cain reached for one of the green beans sprinkled with bacon only to have his hand slapped aside by Encke. “Not for you.”

“Do you think skinny’s going to eat all this?” he rebuked, but he settled with his hip leaning against the back of Abel’s chair. Keeler sat adjacent to him but Encke remained standing on Cain’s other side.

Encke jumped right into it. “Have you bitten him?”

A quiet gasp escaped Abel whereas Cain sassed, “Are we talking about before or after the fucking mess of last night?”

The spine of the chair in Encke’s hands creaked with his grip. “This is serious.”

“With my neck on the line, I agree,” Cain answered.

Keeler concluded. “That’s a no, then. How are you feeling?”

The question was directed toward Abel, whose hands were clasped tightly in his lap. He was silent for so long that Keeler gave him a warm smile and elaborated, “I mean mentally. The strain on your mind was too great last night. Dare I say it, Cain was right—” a snort sounded from the hunter in question, “—but we won’t hold that against him.”

Cain grimaced, not understanding how being right could ever be a bad thing until Encke spoke. “It doesn’t matter how right he is, he clearly isn’t ready.”

Cain spoke up for himself, “I already know I’m halfway to being a pro’s partner, but you will understand my reluctance to be a blood bag. I was given the impression by _someone_ that ‘No one wants a slice of pie until the king tastes it’. The way I see it, Abel can have his bodyguard and I don’t get my arteries opened.”

“What?” Encke said as his gaze shot toward Keeler.

The latter shrugged. “I gave no lies, and I was not wrong. Vampires are just as selfish and greedy as humans, but what you fail to remember, Cain, is that if something is executed properly, the the benefits will be many and great. You don’t see Encke fighting off waves of students trying to use him for lunch, do you?”

He had Cain, there, except for, “Well vampires don’t like to drink from themselves. Encke has the advantage of a frozen heart.”

The man himself scowled. “Our hearts beat, you ignorant shit. Just too gently for medical devices to detect.”

“Whatever,” Cain refuted. “If it comes between the two of us, my head’s coming off.”

“Exactly,” Keeler intervened. “I meant to raise your awareness, not frighten you off, but Encke is right. If you can’t meet Abel halfway and catch him, then don’t entice him to cross the bridge in the first place.”

“Hold on,” Cain intercepted. “Abel told me we were already halfway there, that he made the rogues believe I was his partner through telepathy—still not comfortable with that, but the way.”

Keeler gave a nod. “To be expected, but if you’re expecting the exchange of blood to be the badge of partners, stop waiting. It’s never been proven whether the mental or physical connection cemented a progenitor to his partner.”

He could see he had pinned Cain in the conversation again. Keeler smiled with that eerie curve of his lips. “You’re already his partner. We do not live in medieval times, where your purpose would be for blood and blood only. Congratulations, Cain. You’re in a relationship. You now have the right to panic.”

What would have been a long silence was cut short by the muscles in Cain’s jaw ticking as he growled, “I’m not the type to panic.”

“Good!” Keeler chimed before turning back to Abel, who had not said a word. Cain noticed the looks on both Keeler and Encke’s faces before he lowered his gaze and found Abel’s shoulders stiff, hunched, and utterly still. Because of the silence it could be heard how he was barely breathing. Noticing how all the attention was on him, he uttered, “You’re…not angry?”

“Not yet,” Encke voiced, eyes on Cain. The message was clear enough that the only one who could fuck up was Cain.

Keeler reiterated, “Why would we be? This is actually progress. It is far better to rely on one person instead of uncontrollably seeking others. The choice in partner is a bit of a surprise, but not unwarranted. Natural, even.”

There was no change in Abel’s physique. “That’s…all?”

Cain warily looked between Encke and Keeler as he gripped Abel’s shoulder and pulled back against the chair spine. “Could you not invite the notion of putting me back into solitary confinement?”

“It is appealing,” Encke seconded, but Keeler appeared puzzled.

“You’re not in trouble. What did you expect—never mind,” he altered quickly. “The academy has chosen to initiate the holiday break early. Students have spent the day packing and the last of them should be in transit to the train station at this moment.”

This time Cain could see how the indigo shadows under Abel’s eyes sank beneath those wide eyes. “Not me,” he uttered, something between a question and statement.

“No,” Keeler affirmed, his voice strong. “Not you, but that means you and I will have more time to work in the lab.”

Like a piece of straw on a camel’s back, Abel crumpled. Whatever air he had been holding during the last five minutes rushed out of him and his shoulders slumped against the chair. He pliantly came forward when Keeler pulled him into a hug, his head sagging on his uncle’s shoulder. His loose braid smelled like dawn air and Encke.

Behind them Cain voiced, “I don’t understand. This place has more webs than spiders know what to do with. Why do you keep passing up opportunities to leave?”

Keeler’s fingers combed through Abel’s hair while Encke said, “Not everyone’s solution is to run.”

“Did you miss the spider analogy?” Cain returned sharply. “Keeping your enemies close only works until you realize you’re just an insect stuck in their web.”

“And what makes you think we are the insects?” Keeler murmured. Cain’s eyes narrowed on his indifferent expression. “If you think for one moment that this is a guessing game, you haven’t been paying attention. You shouldn’t doubt a spider’s ability to handle a web.”

Of course. The man with the computer. The creator and hacker of the security system with enough progenitor blood to have authority among vampires. A teacher with authority over humans…coworker of Commander Cook and uncle of the most valuable student here.

Cain pulled Abel out of Keeler’s embrace with a grip firm enough to make Abel gasp. “Cain! What—”

“You got your job pretty easily,” Cain interrupted. “One would think a pro would not want another progenitor here. Too much competition, unless you’re an ally. You got Abel here real easy.”

“No, I applied,” Abel intercepted, but Cain was not having any of it.

“So what? The person of interest comes to you, how convenient.”

Encke and Keeler exchanged glances, the former of whom appeared puzzled. “You’re making strong accusations when you’re outnumbered?” Encke wondered. “I’m not sure where to start: how wrong you are or how stupid.”

“He is intelligent to consider all angles,” Keeler contradicted. “And he hasn’t had much of a family to give him faith in such connections.”

Cain pulled Abel to his feet. “There isn’t a single parent or otherwise listed in my file.”

“Indeed,” Keeler agreed. “That page is oddly blank. My point is that it will be difficult to convince you that I have refused Commander Cook’s advancements. It was a mistake on my part; it would have been easier to know his plans if I had accepted to be a part of them, but that cannot be helped now.”

“Proof would be a nice touch,” Cain provided darkly.

Encke rotated fully to face him and began to remove his shirt. Cain frowned perplexedly as the long-sleeve gave way for the tank top underneath, and then Encke was bare chested before them, all chocolate skin and wide frame—and a starburst of scar tissue just under where his heart rested. Abel had seen it once, but he had not thought much of it since the man commanded the hunters, but now his uncle stood to join him. Standing slightly behind Encke with his pale chest bare, they could see that Encke’s scar aligned right over Keeler’s heart, where a tiny patch of a scar rested.

“How is the death of my partner for proof?” Keeler uttered quietly. “Do not misunderstand: the death of a progenitor, no matter how common his blood, will not go unnoticed, and a prominent officer over hunters cannot be easily removed. But he still tried.”

“Only once,” Cain observed. “He wasn’t very effective.”

“I was born human,” Encke countered.

Cain froze. The expression cleared from his face as he processed that. Keeler filled the silence with, “He saved my life…and I saved his.”

The furrow returned to Cain’s brow. “Two survivors to speak against him…there’s no way he wouldn’t try to kill you again.”

“He wanted to,” Keeler agreed, “but a parcel of paperwork arrived sometime afterward. An application, with a completed entrance exam as well as a portfolio of blueprints; home projects far too ingenious for a home-schooled young man to have drawn. A parcel of papers too good to ignore, from a nephew of an uncle he could no longer risk killing.”

In that moment, Encke wore the warmest expression Cain had ever seen on his face as he locked eyes with Abel. “You saved us. We’re not claiming to be good people. Good people wouldn’t have let you arrive, nor get mixed up in this, but if it wasn’t here under our protection, it would be out there without us.”

Abel considered their perspective, and really, it was hardly a choice. Memories of his parents' house and the stagnant suffering versus fighting for a cause here, actively gaining successes even at the expense of pains…

“Do you have any guesses what Cook wanted?” Abel moved on.

Keeler smiled and nodded as he worked his shirt over his head. “I have an idea, but Bering is a wild card. I think Cook set up this playing board long before any of us arrived to it. Having Bering on our side would be a delight, but an untrustworthy one. If only we had someone to figure out such a player.”

His look at Cain was beyond blatant. Cain’s eyelids dropped to half-mast. “Shall I just sweep his office and drop off some baked goods to gain his favor?”

Keeler shrugged into his pale jacket. “I wouldn’t trust you with my oven. You’re a hunter, Cain. Be a hunter. You can’t be the only one getting direct orders.”

To give himself something to do, Cain ruffled his hair. They had managed to sleep the whole day and it seemed they should have just stayed in bed. “What are we to do tonight, then?”

“Nothing.”

That hand scrubbed roughly over his face. “What?”

Encke was doing up his own black jacket as he said, “This conversation never happened. You will report back to your squad for workouts, help whatever students need aid with their luggage, and go to dinner like normal.”

“These walls do not lend well to a nonexistent discussion,” Cain reminded.

Keeler answered, “This corridor has been empty of all except us since noon. Any faculty members staying in town over the holidays prefer their own lodgings with their families. Commander Cook and Bering live in their own wings of the academy. Abel, you will spend the evening with me in the lab.”

He quickly packed up some food in a box usually meant for cupcakes and led the way out of the room. Cain and Abel exited last, and when the first pair went out of the corridor doors, Cain felt a tug on his shirt. “Wait—uh,” Abel blundered.

Cain rotated and glanced down at how Abel’s feet had rocked forward and then landed hard on his heels. Abel peeked up at him and then away, blinking as he tried to fuse words together. “I…um, well, never mind. It doesn’t matter—”

Cain’s hand landed heavily on his ass, causing him to jump up onto his toes and up toward Cain’s kiss. It was brief, but soft and lingering. “If you want a see-you-later kiss, just say so,” he said when they parted. Abel took that to mean they were still on even terms.

He and Cain parted ways, Abel and Keeler taking the easiest route to the laboratory while Cain and Encke went their different ways at the bottom of the stairs. It was not long, though, before Cain felt a familiar shadow on his heels.

“Deimos. Been a long time.”

“No it hasn’t,” he whispered.

“Long enough to miss me?” Cain jibed. Deimos was silent. “Don’t pout, although I remember telling you do keep an eye on my blondie. You could have saved me a lot of trouble from—”

His boots squawked from stopping short. Cain had blinked and found Deimos suddenly in front of him, wearing an expression he had never seen. It was also the most expressive he had ever seen the smaller man be. Caught between confusion, disgust, and shock, Deimos uttered, “Different.”

Cain sighed and ruffled his hair, feeling the start of a headache approaching. “What’s different?”

“You.”

“You’re a poet Deimos, but I’ve got someplace to be.” He sidestepped around but stopped again with Deimos’ grip on his elbow. Cain felt himself bodily whirled around, momentarily stunned by the smaller man’s strength. He had never underestimated Deimos, an established hunter after all, but Cain wondered if he really was losing his touch. He also did not expect Deimos’ fingers to reach for his neck. “Deimos! What the fuck—”

The track shirt he had borrowed was a thermal undershirt, a thin turtleneck that was snug enough to not leave his physique to the imagination. Apparently it was not enough, since Deimos already had the neck folded down to reveal Cain’s scar and he kept pulling until Cain heard threads pop.

“DEIMOS.” He gripped the smaller man’s jacket and thrashed him against a nearby wall. His head thwacked audibly but his bright eyes remained clear and unfazed. “What the fuck is the matter with you?”

“No bites,” he uttered, quiet as ever.

Cain knocked his hands off of him. “Yeah, he's got more control than we thought. What’s your excuse?”

Deimos’ expression had changed but not by much. “Wrong…this is wrong.”

“No shit it’s wrong,” Cain snapped, rubbing his temple. “Can’t a man go to work without being ambush—mmd!”

He had a split second to register the grip on his nape before Deimos’ lips pressed against his own. Cain’s palms splayed across the slim torso, significantly smaller than his own yet deceptively…stronger. His eyes widened with anger as Deimos’ tongue licked the seam of his lips, pushing through to taste his teeth. Cain removed a hand to grip his jaw, needing all of his strength to separate them.

A hair’s width between them, Deimos whispered, “You should be mine.”

Cain’s brow furrowed. Deimos was…angry. Cain had learned to decipher the minuscule mood shifts in the man but this was something else entirely. It was rage and the worst kind: quiet, unpredictable.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Cain growled, “It’s not going to happen?”

Deimos’ nostrils flared but his voice never wavered. “We should be together.”

Despite his words, Cain’s tone was dangerous. “The only needy little shit in this place is me. You can have the title when I’m dead.”

“You are dying.”

Cain groaned. “Point taken, the neediest person here is Abel, but I’m still kicking. And frankly, it’s my choice how I get buried.”

“Abel,” Deimos uttered, something deflating inside him. “Abel.”

A brow lifted on Cain’s face. “You want me to spell it for you?”

Deimos glowered at him. “You use it. His name.”

“Well I can’t call him Princess without it getting annoying.”

“You did for everyone else,” Deimos snapped. “It used to be me. Only me. Then Abel, then Anna, even Praxis. You _care_ about him.”

His customary grimace found it’s place on his face. “You’re wrong—”

“You’re a liar, Cain,” Deimos growled. “To everyone, yourself, but not _me._ ”

His chest heaved as if he was out of breath. He averted his gaze as he reiterated, “It should be me. I…”

Deimos’ chin jerked ever so slightly, but it was enough to cause Cain’s gaze to lock on him. Even though Deimos faced him on an angle, Cain could see his pupils dilate, blowing the circle of blue wide, the same moment the muscles in his jaw ticked. Deimos shut his eyes as if sustaining an immense pain…and then ice irises focused on Cain. “It should have been me.”

Cain watched, bewildered, as Deimos left him. Easily blending into the shadows and rounding the corner, he left as silently as he’d come, leaving Cain with too much to think about with a growing migraine. He turned toward the canteen, intent on demolishing the hunger that was contributing to his headache while he thought over what he had just seen. He was eating asparagus and beef cutlets as quickly as he piled food onto his plate while he wondered what could have spooked Deimos like that. For someone intimately acquainted with danger, a hunter’s pupils should only dilate to accommodate light…

“Look who prettied up to join us,” Anna japed when he sat down. He left them to their taunts after a retort to remind them of his ranking and overall cleverness. The pounding between his ears did ebb some the more he ate, and further with second helpings. Usually a loaded platter was enough to fill him up but his aching muscles wanted the protein, even greens, so he obliged.

“Ugh,” Anna groaned, earning his curiosity. He followed her line of sight to a cluster of straggling students. “More luggage to haul. I can’t wait to get our of here for my own holiday.”

Cain watched them chat on their way to the blood bank, choose their preferred type and laugh over something amusing while they microwaved the blood bags. Most of the tables had already been piled and moved along the walls, out of the way for cleaning, so the students had no other place to sit but near the hunters. “They can lift their own bags,” Cain consoled before he could help himself. Deimos’ words echoed inside of him, and he shoveled more food to stifle them away.

“Would you stop? I’m starving,” a young voice reached his ears. Some vampire was flirting with a red-head who would have had freckles if she had vitamin-d to bring them out. She managed to grasp the bag he was holding out of her reach and clamped her teeth on a corner, biting right into it instead of using the straw. Her pupils dilated and relaxed as her stomach filled…

Rogues. Vampires. Their pupils behaved irrationally… No, just differently than humans’….

The boy nudged her, causing her to look at him and then glance at Cain staring. Anna observed this and murmured, “Please tell me you haven’t taken to children.”

Cain tore his gaze away and shot back as he rose to his feet, “What does Deimos do in his spare time?”

Anna stared up at him, taken by surprise. “I don’t know. I thought he followed you around.”

He lifted his tray and left her wondering behind him. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? With everyone leaving the school, he, Abel, Encke, and Keeler were left with the other two players of this game, and whoever else fell on their teams.

Meanwhile, Abel’s fingers flew across the screen of his tabletop. The computer within lagged, causing him to retrace his steps until he couldn’t stand Keeler’s eyes on him any longer. _“What?”_

“Why did you expect a scolding?” Keeler inquired as if it was a natural part of the conversation.

“Because it’s Cain,” Abel refuted. “Because Encke doesn’t trust me to share space with anyone for an extended period of time. Because—”

“Your parents,” Keeler finished, thoroughly stealing the wind from Abel’s lungs. “They’ve never allowed you anything. You didn’t exactly arrive with a heap of luggage. Tantos had more baggage than you. You were nearly skin and bones, socially deprived from lack of friends, and miles away from a relationship with anyone, let alone Cain. Now you have holiday cards waiting in your mailbox, something akin to a partner and a reasonable starting weight for him to hold onto.”

Abel’s was not sure whether to blanch or blush. Keeler leaned forward on his elbows. “Speaking of, how is the scent of your plucked flower?”

The tabletop was not sure how to compute the sensory readings of Abel’s face planted on it.

*******

Deimos had turned right.

Cain navigated the corridors back to where they had spoken and proceeded as if they were the alleyways of a city; a district barricaded so nothing could get in except his team. But he wasn’t with his team, the slackers. Anna was helping the vampire brats move out this very second and the others were already in a pub a thousand miles away or further.

There were really only two places Deimos could be, so he checked Bering’s office first. Bering typically left his office unlocked when he was in it but closed when he wasn’t, and this was the case now. Cain prided himself, among other things, on his ability to break into anything whether he was drunk or sober, whether it was a kitchen or a high security office. Far from reaping any secrets, Cain could only account for a Spartan bedroom, typical bathroom, and an office equipped with all the standard materials. He cast a glance at the computer but that was Abel’s arena, and Keeler had probably already penetrated the damn thing over his breakfast crumpets.

Cook’s wing was on the other side of the academy, and Cain held the stitch in his side as he angrily mused over not trashing Bering’s office while he was in it. The man had put him in the field too soon after solitary confinement and now his body could barely get across the damn square footage of this place. At least Cook’s office was hardly more protected than Bering’s—

“You could have knocked.”

Cain stood in the open doorway, his lock picks, expired debit card that didn’t have his name on it and bobby pins in hand. “Who the fuck are you?”

The blonde’s smirk pulled into a grimace. “Really? We’ve been on missions together.”

“You mean you held the maps while Deimos actually killed the targets,” Cain sassed.

The smile was gone altogether. “Some people are meant to take direction, others to give it. That is what makes a good pair, and the reason you never became one. Well…you can’t say Bering never tried.”

“They couldn’t keep up,” Cain growled, approaching the desk in which he sat. “That’s hardly my fault.”

The blonde’s grin returned. “It is, actually. If Abel were to see your resumé, what would he think?”

“He’s too busy getting fucked out of his mind to do something as stupid as think,” Cain returned with a glance at the commander’s desk as well as his rubbish bin. “Same as Cook, apparently. Can you take a shit after that many condoms, slut? I suppose your commander is passed out in the next room?”

“My name is Phobos,” he growled sharply.

“I don’t care,” Cain held up a hand. “Why don’t you save me the disgusting task of touching that keyboard.”

Phobos swiveled ever so slightly in one direction and then the other, restless. “First, tell me about Thebes.”

Cain had been halfway through counting how many condoms it took to make a progenitor comatose. Steely features locked onto Phobos, gauging how brazen this rabbit was in the eye of a predator. Apparently, the bunny wished to grow fangs.

“On second thought, you don’t have to tell me. I’m sure Abel will figure it out when I discuss it with him.”

“There isn’t anything to talk about,” Cain uttered darkly, quietly. Stalking forward.

“Indeed,” Phobos frowned theatrically. “Your file in this computer is like a ghost—present, but empty. Usually such files are proof of a secret but it’s under such lock and key that it's nonexistent. All that’s there is a file named _Thebes_ and the most boring list of men who died there…including you.”

Cain grinned maliciously. “Obviously someone’s a shitty secretary.”

“Who didn’t bother to put a conclusion date for the mission,” Phobos seconded.

“I’m not in charge of dates or numbers, nor do I care.”

“No…why would you when Thebes is a location, not a mission name?” Phobos countered. "Is that where Bering found you?"

“That’s a guess. You’re wanting me to react so you’ll think you’re right,” Cain returned. “I don’t have the patience to humor a child’s pleasures.”

Phobos outright laughed at that. “You can’t tell me Abel is more than a child, the freak. Way too much innocence. I ruined my chances.”

It was Cain’s turn to guffaw. He had been snooping through a cabinet set into the wall, but now he returned to the desk. He spun Phobos around so he could loom over him, poised over the armrests. “Chances at what after you had Porthos beat him up?”

A shadow hindered the glint in Phobos’ eyes. “I didn’t know what he was back then.”

Cain taunted him with lifted brows. “And with a face permanently puckered with lemons, you thought you might charm your way to his heart?”

Phobos’ eyelashes swept up, analyzing him. “You’re not different from me.”

Cain sneered and stretched his hand so his fingers curled behind Phobos’ nape while his thumb pushed his chin higher and higher to the point of discomfort. “I’m not hiding in a commander’s office.”

“No…just one of those freak’s bedrooms. Just like me.”

The expression on Cain’s face opened, gazing down at Phobos anew. What he saw there was…frustration. Failure. Something else…overly familiar. “Whatever you want…isn’t working.”

Phobos made an effort to appear cocky. “What makes you say that? I’m here aren’t I?” His fingers drummed on the computer keys.

“You’re a pet. You don’t have any bites that I can see…which makes you an unworthy pet. Their kind likes to show things off. You’re hiding in here while Deimos is actually working.”

 _Bingo._ Phobos features cracked and crumbled but try as he might to pick up the pieces, his hatred of Deimos was apparent. Cain probed further, “What treats does Deimos get that you don’t?”

Those eyes flicked back up at him, glaring. “You’re so stupid.” Cain’s eyelids dropped to half-mast but he was already reiterating, “He gets the thing he obsesses over constantly. He gets you. I never thought I would pity the brat but compared to you…”

“How does he get me through working for Cook?” Cain intercepted.

“Well he doesn’t, now,” Phobos sassed. “He might be gone already. He wasn’t the type to stick around when plans went wrong. I used to think he was a coward for it but now I realize he’s the smartest person here. The last time he was in here for orders he didn’t sound like he was on Cook’s side anymore. Something about the rogues made him uneasy.”

Puzzled, Cain guessed, “You mean Helios and Selene?”

Phobos shrugged. “I didn’t care to know their names. They’re gone, anyhow.”

Cain growled and pushed him back in the chair, releasing him. “You’re a real helpful piece of shit.”

“It’s not my fault you can’t put two and two together,” Phobos barked, halting Cain’s steps toward the door. “Cook didn’t care one way or another about the rogues. He didn’t stop them from attacking the academy. He didn’t stop or help them be captured, and he didn’t do a damn thing about them escaping. He isn’t going to do anything to find them, either. Deimos is gone. Do you think he cares? Deimos figured that out. It was his own damn fault for figuring it out late but he stayed for you.”

Cain absorbed this, watching Phobos over his shoulder. “What about you? You clearly aren’t in it just for fucks or false illusions of romance.”

Phobos sighed haughtily, waving his hand as if to shoo him out. “Figure it out yourself. You’re a bore.”

“Answer the question,” Cain ordered. “Tell me why Deimos’ eyes dilate like a vampire’s.”

Phobos’ head fell onto his fist. “Because he is one, you dolt.”

Thanks to Encke’s reveal, Cain felt the need to ask, “Since when?”

He had caught Phobos by surprise. “Well done, but that should tell you more about Cook than your mouse.”

“Like what exactly?”

Phobos sighed against, defeated. “I wouldn’t know. He hasn’t turned me, asshole. Ask Abel.”

And Abel was with Keeler, how convenient. The pros could decipher this mess while Cain relaxed in that massive telescope chair.

To get to the laboratory he needed to cross through the atrium, which was the starting point of glass in the building’s architecture. For once the place was rather peaceful. Large, lush rubber plants and ferns stood sentinel instead of hunters. Rowdy students were gone. Rogues did not plague the night view outside of the windows. Cain’s stroll to the lab was damn near enjoyable. He turned the corner into the last stretch of corridor and gazed up at the high, arched ceiling of glass. The part of the school that had access to daylight always gave the impression of trying to be a museum of antiquity. This train of thought led Cain to remember a particular hunt in a museum; some vampire as old as the Renaissance took to sleeping in the Greek exhibit and eating the performance artists in the modern art section... Deimos was on that mission. During daylight.

“Good evening, Cain.”

He had unconsciously stopped in the middle of a corridor, beside an alcove in which rested an empty plinth. Perhaps a bust of someone should have been there, but instead sat Commander Cook. “I thought you were recovering for another fuck.”

The man chuckled. “My stamina is not so fragile. Did Phobos help you with what you were looking for?”

Cain turned to face him, noticing how his customary spectacles were missing. He gestured to his own face as he answered instead, “What, you only wear them for fashion?”

Cook plucked them from his jacket pocket. “No, for reading. Age does corrupt the eyes eventually.” He slid them back in. “If you had inquiries, Cain, you could have come to me directly. We are not enemies.”

Cain wondered if he should have made more of an effort being nice to Phobos and Deimos after all. As he gazed at Commander Cook, trying to read him, it became evident that those two were the only ones who could even remotely do it. Cain had no idea how to read this man, so he went with, “I’m a hunter and you’re a vampire. Enemies is exactly what we are.”

“We don’t have to be,” he corrected mildly…kindly. “Somewhere along the way the perception of me became misled. The president of this academy’s highest priority is maintaining the peace between our kind and improving it.”

Cain latched onto that hanging thread. “Then you would have shown more proactivity with the rogues.”

“I have already discussed this with Abel,” he assured. “I was not on campus during the first attack, so that fault rests with Bering.”

“And the second?” Cain challenged, to which cook laughed merrily.

“That was Abel and his uncle’s plot, was it not? As a hunter you might have shown more intent on halting the scheme. We all have our reasons. You, your infatuation, and I my curiosity.”

Cain inhaled for calm. “Curiosity? How did you get elected to this position?”

Cook laughed again, but instead of calming Cain’s worries as it was probably meant to do, it set him on edge. Made his breath uneasy. Even more so when Cook eased off the plinth and came to stand before him. “I can see why he likes you, Cain, I do. The same reasons Abel likes you. The same reasons you like Abel.”

“But not the reasons you made Deimos…like you,” Cain combatted.

Cook took a moment to observe Cain, which made this all worse. He did not like the feeling of being an open book. “No. Bering has the heart to trust his subordinates whereas I have more experience with the heartless. You are still in the shock of new information…at how a vampire can me remade to walk in daylight; how a human can keep these pleasures with the bonus of everlasting days. You won’t mind it soon, though. I’ll admit I gave Deimos both a blessing and a curse. He may feel the sun on his face but he is a slave to my summons. Yes, that is what you witness earlier in his eyes.”

Cain’s eyes widened, his thoughts stolen from him. "What did you order him to do?"

"Nothing, in fact," Cook stated. His lifted brows slowly furrowed in genuine surprise. "He never answered...and that is a shame. He is strong, and would be valuable to me if he did not have equal intelligence. I can only imagine the pain it must have taken to resist me."

His gaze returned to Cain's. “And now you’re wondering if that is the fate that awaits you with Abel. A slave to exploited desires. Rest assured, I doubt Abel is so cruel. One day, he might be, but you will be dead by then.”

The side of Cain’s hand pressed into the fabric of a pocket, feeling the reassuring hardness of a blade there.

But Cook’s eyes lowered to that hand and lifted to meet Cain’s eyes. “Yes, you are fast enough to reach it now, but you won’t be soon. Are you hungry? So soon after supper? Are you tired? After an entire day of rest?”

Cain swallowed. He’d…forgotten…what this sort of fear felt like. Helplessness.

“See? You’re sharp, Cain, and quick. Already you couldn’t care less about where Deimos is or how select vampires can walk in the light. Just as quickly you will have processed how vampires can communicate with one another through silence…and how my kind can do the same with humans.”

Cain’s teeth ground together. “Then how did you lose the fucking war?”

“A good question,” Cook replied. “I arrived late to the fight, you understand. It is hard to solve a problem when you have not been born yet. That doesn’t make it any less of than an absolute _embarrassment._ ”

The last words were clipped, toxic in his mouth, as if this very fact of history would be better analyzed from the grave than lived through.

He took a step back, giving space between them and Cain realized he had not been breathing at all. “But I have time.” His eyes wandered over Cain. “And I am patient.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And if anyone has read _The Song of Achilles_ and you need therapy, or if you just like some old fashion Greek god shenanigans, check out my new fic: [The King's Cup!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6928330/chapters/15803746)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! All comments are wonderfully appreciated and I hope to get you guys a new update soon!
> 
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> 
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